


Part Of Your World

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M, Mermaids and Mermen and Merfolk and Mer-stuff, Slow Build, completely unrealistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overall, Ryan views his life as normal. Not boring, but normal. He feels like he can predict what's going to happen the next day at their exact points. Get up. Brush teeth. Eat. School. Go home. Do homework. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Summer's the same thing, only school is replaced by lifeguard duty at the beach.</p><p>What Ryan can't predict is that his routine world will be thrown into the decidedly abnormal soon enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Of Your World

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this started out as a small fic and then progressed into this monster. Crack all the way through. Ryan is now the oldest of three brothers, his birthday is not August 3rd, and, well, Michael is a mermaid. Some of the mer-language is borrowed from Christopher Paolini's _Eragon_. I also know nothing about the state of Florida in general so if you are from there and are reading this please forgive any grievous misrepresentations.
> 
> OK I JUST READ OVER THIS and I realized how many errors there are. Brandon should be four, Ryan actually doesn't have a dog, and ugh I'm sorry please overlook them.

For his entire life, Ryan's lived right on the shore of St. Augustine Beach, Florida. 

He shares his low-slung, Spanish-style house with his mother and two brothers, Devon, who's entering sixth grade, and Brandon, who's newly four years old and proud of it. Of course, he can't leave out the cat that lives under their porch, or the sixteen lizards that chill every day on his patio, the three burrowing owl holes he sees in the lawn, the occasional alligator lumbering by, or the thousands of birds chirping and landing on the giant palm leaves.

But for six years now, Ryan's father has been gone. Dead to the world, or the rest of his family, at least. 

Because six years ago, Ryan walked into his kitchen after school to find his dad kissing the woman who worked as his secretary.

Ryan didn't know her name, her age, who she was, he just knew he hated her. His dad, of course, broke away the moment he saw Ryan standing there, but the deed was done. Ryan ran to his room, locked himself in, and waited until his mother got home to tell her.

He didn't consider the effect this would have on the family, he just let it all out. And so, his father, in a storm of rage and regret, left their home and set off for anywhere where his family wasn't.

Ryan's learned to deal with it. In fact, he doesn't have a problem with his dad being gone, because they were never the closest. Devon and his father had the strongest bond. 

But he can't deny that he misses those fishing trips where his dad would help him bait the rod, and cast it into the blue, clear water, and they'd sometimes even reel in a fish or two, but they'd never eat it, because you never know with Florida wildlife. They'd talk about anything and everything, and Ryan would savor every moment, soaking up his father's advice about dating the prettiest girls in the class, the rules of fisticuffs, the stories of how he and his mother met, and everything else they could think of.

He misses that, but he doesn't allow himself to miss it more than he should.

Overall, Ryan views his life as normal. Not boring, but normal. He feels like he can predict what's going to happen the next day at their exact points. Get up. Brush teeth. Eat. School. Go home. Do homework. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Summer's the same thing, only school is replaced by lifeguard duty at the beach.

What Ryan can't predict is that his routine world will be thrown into the decidedly abnormal soon enough.

 

 

 

It's all Kyle's dad's fault.

Kyle Deery has been Ryan's best friend for the entirety of his sixteen years. They've been through everything together, from skulking like losers in the corner at their seventh-grade homecoming dance and never working up the courage to ask a girl out to taking their first experimental bong hit at a party and barfing up their guts in the bathroom. Kyle's always been there for Ryan, and Ryan's always been there for Kyle. That's just the way things are.

Kyle's mother died when he was young, leaving him with his eccentric, mythology-obsessed father. Jim, Kyle's dad, was Professor of Archaic Folktales (which Ryan didn't even know was a subject until he met him) at the University of Florida, and he was always bounding up to Kyle and his friends in his overcharged way and screaming some random fact about Florida being a "folklore melting pot," then returning to his desk and muttering about selkies or mermaids or some shit. Even though he was a grade-A weirdo, he could always make Ryan laugh, and Ryan knows that the guy deserves serious respect. It's tough to raise a kid by yourself, girl or boy, whether you're the mother or father, but Jim had brought Kyle up well.

So here he is in the dead of night, sneaking across the beach with Kyle and his dad, because of some stupid fucking _mermaids_.

"Dude, your dad's _legit_ gonna get us killed this time." Ryan hisses as Jim performs some sort of chant and dance combo at the dark waterfront, probably summoning the spirits of the sea foam or something. "I mean, it's eleven-thirty, who knows what's in the water."

They're lugging a small canoe across the sand that they're supposed to row across the water to a deep point, then Kyle's dad will take it from there. "Just let him go." Kyle whispers, wincing as his dad tosses colored powder onto the water's surface. "C'mon, let's push this thing out."

Ryan has absolutely no idea what's going to happen, but he's been on enough of these creature-hunting trips to know that nothing will probably come out of it. He thinks back to the chupacabra-baiting mission that led them on a day-long hike in the Everglades, where Jim set a trap and instructed them to wait until sunset. When they finally checked it, all that was inside was a terrified-looking water snake.

But he pushes the canoe out and they all climb in, the beach empty behind them. No one in their right mind is even near the water at this hour. The full moon shines above them as Ryan paddles silently out, following Jim's directions. "Okay, now pass the pier over here…perfect."

Ryan drags the oar and turns to Jim. "So, Jim, why exactly _are_ we here?" Kyle snorts, and Jim raises an eyebrow, rounding on his son.

"I'll have you know, Kyle, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience." Jim huffs, then he smiles at Ryan. Rummaging in his bag, he pulls out a huge net, a pure white seashell, and a pearl. "Come in closer."

Ryan and Kyle obediently lean in. "Boys, tonight…" Jim pauses for effect. "Tonight, we're going to catch a mermaid."

It's all Ryan can do to keep from cracking up, and he knows Kyle's the same way. "Er. I'm excited and all, but. Well."

"Shush! No buts!" Jim's eyes gleam. "Tonight, the tide is low, there's a full moon, Venus is visible on the horizon…" He looks dreamy. "All the stars are in the right places." At the boys' blank looks, he clears his throat, the sound echoing over the quiet water. "Care for an explanation?" Kyle and Ryan nod, because they have no other choose, and get into their oh-god-he's-starting-up-again sitting positions. 

"Alright." Jim puffs importantly. "A night like this is so rare, the last time an astrological phenomenon of this strain occurred was in Shakespeare's time. Where do you think he got his inspiration for Ariel, from The Tempest? Puck, from A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Kyle nods. "Dad, get on with it."

"Okay, okay. So, all the major constellations, Orion's Belt, Big Dipper, Ursus Major, etc. are in perfect alignment in the heavens. This leaves considerable room for a _supernatural_ phenomenon." He beams. "And since we live in Florida, our natural surrounding is the water itself. And what lives in the water?"

"Fish." Ryan supplies, but Jim tuts and shakes his finger.

"No, my dear boy. Well, that is correct, but there are much more interesting beings." He pauses for effect. "Mermaids, I tell you! And mermen! Merfolk, yes, merfolk!" Jim looks triumphantly at them.

Even if merpeople did exist (the fact that they do not is well-established), Ryan doubts that they could catch one. "So, how would we get our hands on one?" He asks, just for Jim's sake. Jim looks overjoyed. 

"Well, to start, we'll have to wait until they emerge. At midnight sharp. Then, we'll have to plug our ears against their song, which can be so powerful that it's known to have made men before our time drown themselves. And, if one is so bold as to come up to the side of our boat…" Jim rubs his hands together. "I have my supplies." He gestures to the net, pearl, and shell. "These contain sacred binding properties. When the net, along with the shell and pearl, is thrown over the mermaid or merman, it is tied to whoever captures it. It cannot escape without the captor's consent. And, that, my good men…" Jim throws his hands up. "Is how we will catch a mermaid!"

Ryan nods thoughtfully, trying to keep Jim's spirits up for as long as possible. He gets depressed when rejected. "Okay. Well, I guess…" He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore. "I guess we'd better, uh, get ready."

Kyle punches his arm. "Wait." He gapes. "No no no no-"

"Kyle." Ryan eyes him. "Just go along with it."

Kyle huffs and grumbles, but he helps his dad put everything into place. "Can't believe I'm doing this. Goddamn mermaids."

Jim chatters happily for the next few minutes about this rare, mystical occurrence and how they should all be throwing a festival celebration, and Ryan lets his mind wander, eyes drifting out across the water. He wonders idly if he could swim across the Atlantic, just start and never stop until he reached the other side, to where his dad is now. Steven got up and moved to England when he left, claiming that the US economy would never recover anyway. 

Ryan closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, he has to squint to see through the slight fog. Because maybe it's just his imagination, but there's a small ripple forming on the water's surface only about twenty feet from their boat.

Ryan looks back and sees that Jim is in the midst of telling Kyle about his super-bratty new student, some kid named Tyler Clary, and he turns back to the water. Sure enough, there's a slight disturbance in the surface.

Ryan's heart, for some reason, starts beating faster. If it's anything, it's probably just a big fish. Or a manatee, even, but they usually leave boats alone. The worst case is that it's a shark. But they're not even in season right now.

He doesn't start actively getting nervous until he hears the slight melody humming through the air. Ryan notices out of the corner of his eye that there's another small ripple forming, this time about ten feet away. He looks back and sees that Jim has gone silent. Jim raises a finger to his lips and leans forward, shoving Kyle away from the boat's edge. Ryan realizes numbly that the earplugs he was supposed to have put in are lying at the bottom of the boat.

The melody is getting steadily louder, but it's still soft and barely there. Ryan has to convince himself that it's just extra-loud music being played from the main island, because…it can't be anything else. Right?

He turns back and almost falls backward in shock. Kyle's passed out at the bottom of the boat, head lolling on his neck. "Kyle, oh my…Jim!" He hisses, but Jim's putting earbuds in Kyle's ears. "He's fine." Jim whispers. "Just wait for a minute."

The song gets even louder, and it's like whatever's making the sound is coming closer to them. Looking down at his wrist, Ryan sees that it's exactly 12:00. When he glances back up at Jim, the man's eyes are wide, and he's staring at something just beyond the boat.

Heart pounding, Ryan turns around. 

_There's no such thing as mermaids,_ he tells himself as he raises his eyes, a pit of dread forming in his abdomen. _There's no such thing as mermaids._

His stomach drops into the pit when he sees what Jim's looking at.

There's a boy, maybe his age, just floating in the water. The top half of his bare torso is exposed, but Ryan doesn't know how he's supporting himself vertically. He's not really able to think at the moment.

"Um…" He croaks, but Jim silences him with a raised palm. Leaning forward, he stares intently at the boy in front of them, muttering something under his breath. It sounds like a mix of, "Atlantic…Genus Marina…royal family…"

The boy somehow floats closer, a smile forming on his lips. As the moonlight passes over his face, Ryan sees that the boy is really hot in a weird way that looks almost inhuman.

Then he flips under the surface of the water, quick as a flash, but something splashes behind him as well. Ryan has to play the scene over in his head to realize what it was.

It was a tail.

Holy shit, it's a _mermaid._

"Holy shit- " Ryan rasps, but then something bumps gently against the opposite side of the boat, and he gets the uneasy feeling that the mer…boy is circling them. "Jim!" He says under his breath, but Jim's eyes look glazed over. _Shit._ Ryan thinks, looking frantically for the net and the other stuff. He has to be prepared, but his mind isn't even functioning right, because holy shit, there's a motherfucking mermaid under the boat, and- 

There's a splash, and suddenly the boy is right in front of Ryan, pale chest halfway out of the water. He smiles again, and Ryan can't help but feel…oddly entranced. He suddenly finds himself wanting to follow this boy's every move, to follow him anywhere. It doesn't matter what happens to him, as long as they're together, everything will be perfect.

Two slim white hands come out of the water and rest on the edge of the boat, and the boy looks at him with wide brown eyes. Ryan feels like he doesn't have control of himself anymore, and he barely has the capacity to notice the reflective fin, waving above the water behind the boy. 

The hands move over Ryan's t-shirt, pressed cold and flat against his chest and leaving a slight dampness, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. The melody seeps back through Ryan's ears, haunting and beautiful even though the boy's not even moving his lips, and it lulls Ryan into a state of total relaxedness. He wants to be with this boy, no matter what it takes.

So when the long fingers hook into his t-shirt collar and bring him closer, Ryan can't think to pull away, because the song is blocking his mind off.

He can't think of Jim, who's eyes still appear to be glazed and lifeless, as the boy touches their foreheads together, breathing cool air on Ryan's cheek. His lips are so close, Ryan wants to push closer, to feel them against his skin.  
He knows the boy's mouth still isn't moving, but a voice echoes through his head, just as enchanting as the song.

 _Come with me._

Ryan agrees with himself, letting himself be pulled even closer. He's only vaguely aware that his torso is now leaning out of the boat's side, tipping it toward the water's edge. 

Then the boy leans closer and his lips brush Ryan's cheek, and the contact jolts Ryan out of his haze. He bolts upright, gasping. The boy hisses and his hands, now more claw-like, latch onto Ryan's shirt with an iron grip and start dragging him down with surprising strength.

"Jim!" Ryan shouts, but the boy's not going to give up. He struggles desperately, but the water keeps getting closer and closer, and-

Suddenly there's a snap and the thick mesh of the net is surrounding the boy, who screeches and thrashes from side to side, but Ryan's too aware now. Heaving the net tighter around the boy, Jim yanks it up and, with a sudden burst of strength, all the way over the side of the canoe. Kyle's jolted awake by the screaming, thrashing mermaid (Ryan's freaking out too much to call the boy anything else) and he, in turn, starts screaming and thrashing, scrambling away onto the opposite end of the boat.

"What the FUCK?" He yells over the screeches that sound like a different language, gripping onto the side of the boat for dear life, but no one's in the mood for explanations. "RYAN, GO!" Jim roars, closing his eyes and chanting something that seems to have absolutely no effect except irritate the mermaid even more, but Ryan snatches up the paddle and propels them as fast as he can toward the shore.

When they finally scrape up against the beach, the boy's still screeching and struggling, but Jim's clearly determined. Panting slightly, he heaves the bundle of mer-thing up into his arms, and Ryan sees how huge the tail is. He can't make out what color it is, but there's a massive fanned-out fin at the end and it's slapping at Jim's arm as he stumbles toward Ryan's house. "Jim! Wait!" Ryan yells, dragging Kyle behind him. "Where are you going?!" 

"Your house!" Jim screams back, and he almost falls over as the boy lets out a particularly violent thrash.

"WHAT?! WHY _MY_ HOUSE?!" Ryan screeches, but Jim's already lugging the mermaid up the back patio, where there's a set of stairs that lead up to Ryan's room. Pros of Floridian architecture: weird passageways. Cons of Floridian architecture: mythical creatures can be dragged through those weird passageways and deposited in the homeowner's room in the middle of the night.

"Jim, wait!" Ryan calls desperately, because his mom could be home by now, and his brothers' rooms are right next to his, and shit there's a fucking _mermaid_ , shit-

Jim yanks his window open, and, with Kyle and Ryan following helplessly, throws himself through it. When they all collapse on Ryan's floor, the carpet immediately getting drenched, the mermaid won't shut up. It starts screaming its head off when Jim lifts it up and dumps it in Ryan's tub.

"Wait, not in there-" Ryan hisses, but it's too late, because Jim is already filling the bath with cold water. It doesn't do anything, though, because the thing literally will not stop making noise, and Ryan thanks god as he remembers his mom is on a business trip and won't be back until the following day.

"Okay, Ryan, take the pearl and shell on the count of three!" Jim yells, and Kyle just cowers in the corner, shivering. "Fuck, it's a fucking mermaid, fuck, fuck- " He mutters under his breath. Ryan doesn't even think anymore, just does what he's told. 

"One, two, three!" Jim shouts, and Ryan snatches up the items. Immediately, the mer…boy starts thrashing even harder, soaking all of them, and Ryan sees that his nails are sharper than they looked when they were curled tightly down on his shirt. "Throw them in front of the door! It'll keep him from getting out! GO!"

Ryan tosses the pearl and shell hurriedly at the entrance, wincing as a particularly loud scream comes from the tub. Jim's currently muttering some sort of mantra and waving his hands around, which, again, has literally no effect. But after a few minutes, it seems like it's working, because the mermaid abruptly goes silent and curls up in the tub's corner, eyes wide and bare shoulders shaking.

Jim stands, an expression of awe on his face. "We've pacified his spirit." He murmurs something under his breath, reaching down and letting the water run. The boy flinches, scrambling backward like he's trying to avoid it, and Jim waits until the tub is full, then turns to Ryan. "Ryan, we're going to keep him in here. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this is going to help my research."

Ryan gapes. "What? Jim, wait, no, I cannot keep a fucking _mermaid_ in my house, Jim- "

But Jim's already halfway across his room, one leg over the windowsill. His round glasses gleam in the moonlight, reminding Ryan of a mad scientist. "I appreciate the help, Ryan! You're a real chum!"

And with that, he disappears, tugging Kyle by the sleeve out with him. "I'll call you tomorrow, Ry, just hold on-" Kyle starts, but then he's over the windowsill and they're gone. 

Leaving Ryan chilled to the bone, with a soaked room, ruined clothes, and a mermaid in his bathtub.

"Okay, okay. Calm down, Ryan." He tells himself, tiptoeing over to the bathroom's closed door and pressing his ear against it. There's only silence.

He allows himself a breath and looks at the clock. It's 1:30 already.

A little voice in the back of Ryan's head tells him that in exactly a week, school is going to start up again. He groans and scrubs through his hair, trying to sort things out.

 _The only way things are going to work is if I try to talk to it._ He reasons with himself. Ryan looks around for some sort of mermaid-repellent, and settles on his old potato gun. There's still a few pellets in it, and his Nerf SuperSoakers aren't exactly going to have an effect on the fucking AQUATIC CREATURE in his tub.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan grips the potato gun tightly and pushes open the door of the bathroom. 

He's immediately assaulted with a wave of screeching and splashed water, and he feels a sharp nail dig into his leg. But Ryan's as prepared as he ever will be, so he fires a few potato pellets and scrambles to the counter, getting on top of it and panting for breath. The mermaid screams again as a potato ball hits his tail, and he curls up back in the tub's corner, causing even more water to spill over the side. 

Still breathing hard, Ryan puts his hands out in front of him.

"Um…" He breathes, closing his eyes. He's talking to a fucking mermaid, fuck this. "Um, I'm not going to hurt you."

When he opens his eyes, the boy's staring at him, eyes bugged out. It occurs to Ryan that the thing in his tub probably just as terrified as he is, so he lets out a breath and tries to study the boy as casually as possible.

He has dark, thick brown hair that matches his eyes, which are big and long-lashed. Ears that are larger than normal pop out, with slightly pointed edges. Underneath each of them is a tiny, almost unnoticeable ridge that Ryan assumes is a gill. Every time he breathes, it moves slightly. 

Ryan trails his eyes down to the boy's tail and has to remember that it's rude to stare. 

It's one of the most beautiful things Ryan's seen, a deep, iridescent blue that shimmers with the slightest movement. Each individual scale reflects the light and casts a small rainbow over any surface, and the bottom of Ryan's tub looks like some unicorn breeding ground.

"Uh." Ryan starts, but he's immediately cut of by a flurry of hisses and clicks and some weird language spat at him. The boy's eyes narrow, and he curls his tail protectively underneath himself. A scale falls and floats to the top of the water, and the boy gasps, grabbing it and trying to press it back on. It doesn't work.

The boy glares up at Ryan like it's all his fault, barking something in his own language, and Ryan bites his lip. "Look, it's not my fault you're here, if you're looking for someone to blame, then- "

But the boy lets out another screech and, lightning-fast, splashes a wave of water all over Ryan. Ryan gapes at his already-ruined clothes, where the dye has started to run, and stares up at the mermaid. "Jesus." He hops carefully down and squeezes his shirt out as best he can in the sink, mind still trying to process the fact that yes, there is a mermaid in his bathtub. 

But when he turns back around, the boy's eyes are closed, and it's almost like he's asleep. Ryan knows he really isn't, but it just reminds him how tired _he_ is.

Ryan leans back against the cold glass of his mirror and closes his eyes. Before he knows it, he's fast asleep, the soft lapping of the water against the side of the tub somehow comforting.

 

 

 

When he wakes up an hour later, the mermaid's brown eyes are an inch from his. Ryan lets out a yell and jerks backward, because the boy's managed to somehow get the upper half of his body out of the tub to study him, long fingers gripping the counter. He yells too, launching backward and splashing everywhere.

"What…what…" Ryan stutters, pressing himself against the mirror. He has no idea what this thing is capable of. 

"Please." Ryan thinks he hears, but then the boy claps a hand over his mouth and abruptly presses back against the edge of the tub.

Wait.

"Wait a minute." Ryan breathes, leaning forward a little. Did that really… "Can you speak English?"

The boy shakes his head firmly, cowering in the corner of the tub and drawing his tail up underneath him. "No!" Then he claps his hand over his mouth again and his eyes widen.

Ryan gapes. "Wait, oh my god! Are you serious?" 

He waits for the boy to say something, and it looks like the boy's thinking it over. Ryan clears his throat. "Um. Like, you don't have to talk if you don't want to, but it would make things easier."

The boy rolls his eyes, bites his lip, and finally opens his mouth.

"Fine."

Ryan has to prevent himself from letting out a relieved breath. "Oh lord. Okay. Okay." He closes his eyes. "So, you can understand what I'm saying?"

The boy looks at him like he just asked what color the sky is. "Of course." He has a weird accent, something that sounds like Brazilian mixed with Czech mixed with…whatever, but not so thick that Ryan can't understand what he's saying. 

"What?! Do you even know- "

"Please." The boy snorts. "I have heard you stupid barbarians conversing often enough. Simian loudmouths."

 _Oh, so his vocabulary is ridiculous on top of that._ Ryan thinks, taking a deep breath. "So…you really get what I'm saying?"

"Did I not just tell you that, fool?"

"Okay. okay." Ryan says, getting a little irritated. This half-fish is already sounding smarter in _his_ language. "So, can we, like, just get this straight?" He points at the boy. "You…are a mermaid."

"Mer _maid_?" The boy screeches angrily, and Ryan races ahead, not wanting to start another screaming festival.

"Whatever, I'm just going to call you that, because that's pretty much all my brain can handle right now." Ryan puts up his hands. "So…do you, uh, you have a name?"

That seems to shut the boy off, and his eyes narrow. "Why would I tell you, petty human?"

Ryan grits his teeth. "Would it help if I told you mine first? Because if you even want to get close to the ocean again, we're going to have to communicate somehow." 

Frankly, Ryan wants to get the boy out of there as fast as possible, mainly because he's a mermaid. And he wants his bathtub back. And of any members of his family see this…Ryan shudders just thinking about what's going to happen. 

The boy eyes him suspiciously. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because…" He sighs. The boy's apparently bent on making this as difficult as possible. "I'm…pretty much the only chance you've got of even having someone help you. Unless you wanna talk to a senile old Florida mythology professor."

The boy raises an eyebrow, but his eyes are softer now. Ryan takes this as permission. "Okay." He tries to smile encouragingly. "My name's Ryan. Ryan Lochte." He takes a deep breath. "Some fun facts about me are I have two brothers, a mom, my best friend is named Kyle, and I love my dog, Carter. I live in a house. I'm sixteen. The end." He looks expectantly at the boy, who rolls his eyes. "Your turn." The boy seems to be a little torn, but Ryan holds firm, raising his eyebrow.

"Fine." He twists his mouth around the word, accent suddenly thickening. "My name is Michael." It sounds more like My-kee-ull. "I am a merMAN. I live in the Kingdom of Marina on the Isle of the Vesperi, with my sisters Wheet-nay and Hee-lah-ray and my mother. I live in the castle, because my mother is queen. I am sixteen." He rolls his eyes. "The end."

Ryan lets out a breath. "Okay, so now we know something about each other. Great."

There's a long stretch of silence, then Ryan clears his throat. "Um, I'm…sorry you're here, I guess. I hope it didn't hurt."

"My scale fell off." Michael mutters, flush creeping into his cheeks. He's surprisingly human, in some ways. "And I am cramped in here."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, I'm sorry again, but we're going to have to wait until Jim gets back to do anything."

"Jim?! Is that the savage who captured me?!" Michael's voice starts to rise, and Ryan shushes him.

"Yeah, okay, it was! Now, can you _please_ be quieter?" He hisses. "I can't believe my brothers haven't woken up yet. Christ."

Michael snorts. "Why should I do what you want?" With that, he opens his mouth and starts screeching his lungs out, splashing the water around and making it spill over onto the floor. Ryan curses and lunges forward, clapping a hand over Michael's mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up-" He mutters, but apparently it's this time that's done it. He hears Devon and Brandon stirring in the room next to his. 

"What's that?" He hears Brandon murmur. "I don't know…" Devon says sleepily, and Ryan hears their door creak open. "But I'm gonna go check it out."

Ryan swears again and glares at Michael. "Do you realize what the fuck just- "

Michael glares. "You are being punished for capturing me, idiot hominid."

"Ry?" Devon calls from the hall, and Ryan's heart drops. "What's going on? It's, like, three in the morning." The door to his room starts to open, and Ryan rushes out of the bathroom, pushing it closed. His mind races for an excuse.

"Nothing at all! Go back to bed!"

"What're you doing?"

"Just Halo." Ryan prays that Devon'll fall for it. "You need to sleep!"

But Devon doesn't fall for it, unfortunately, because the door is being pushed open and Ryan stumbles backward. Devon looks up at him suspiciously.

"Ry, what're you hiding?" He surveys the room, and if it was daytime, he'd be able to see the soaked carpet and trail of water leading to the bathroom. 

Ryan gulps. He's the older brother, dammit, he should be in charge. "Nothing, lil bro. Now go back to- "

But Devon's not listening, because his blue eyes narrow as he sees the water seeping out from under the bathroom door. "What's this?"

Before Ryan can do anything, Devon's striding over and yanking the bathroom door open.

"Oh my god." He hears Devon say, and that's it. Ryan lunges in, ignoring Michael's scream of shock, and slams the door closed, pulling Devon out by the back of his neck.

"Ry…" Devon breathes after a moment. "What the hell is that?"

"These damned humans!" Michael screeches from the bathroom, and Devon jumps back, gripping Ryan's arm.

"What the hell is _that_?"

Ryan closes his eyes, debating on whether he should fill Devon in or not. He decides Devon's (barely) mature enough to handle it. "Dev…you have to promise me you're not going to tell anyone." 

"Not even Brandon?"

"Not even Brandon. And definitely…" Ryan eyes him, gripping his shoulder. "Definitely not Mom."

Devon nods, then spits in his hand and holds it out. "Deal."

"Deal." Ryan spits in his own and shakes on it. "Now, you're gonna have to shut up and just listen, okay?"

"Okay."

So Ryan tells Devon everything that happened that night, and even though his brother's eyes widen almost to the point where Ryan's afraid they're going to pop out of his skull, he stays quiet. When Ryan's done, Devon points at the door with a shaky finger.

"So…there's a…in there…"

"Yeah." Ryan shakes his head, still not entirely accepting of the fact himself. "Yeah, there's a mermaid in there."

"And that explains…the tail? And the tub?" Devon breathes, looking apprehensive. His eyes dart toward the bathroom. 

"Yeah, it does." Ryan bites his lip. "So…now you know."

"Can I go see him?"

Ryan shrugs. He assumes Michael's not particularly lethal, even if he has a scratch on his leg from his nail. "If you really want to."

Devon's elfish grin spreads over his face, and he whistles. "You can come out now, Brand!"

Ryan groans and scrubs his hands over his face as Brandon appears from behind his dresser, giving Devon a hi-five. "Ryyy!"

"Brandon…have you been here the entire time?" Brandon nods gleefully, hugging Ryan's knee.

Ryan always has trouble saying no to his brothers. Especially when they gang up on him like this. "Okay, well…just, let me go in first."

Brandon giggles and drags Devon into the bathroom with him, clearly delighted that there's a real live mermaid in there. Ryan curses silently and prays that Michael's feeling merciful as he hurries in after his brothers.

Michael's eyes widen when he sees all of them crowded in the bathroom, and he shrinks further into the corner, tail starting to beat from side to side in the water. He looks like he's about to start another freakout, but Brandon puts a stop to that.

He just walks forward and straight up to the side of the tub, beaming at Michael. "You're a mermaid!"

Michael just looks confused and shrinks even further back, tail flipping in distress, but Brandon laughs and holds out his hand. "It's okay, I won't bite."

Eventually, Michael seems to relax, and he leans forward. Brandon grins and pats his shoulder, because that's as far as he can reach. "What's you name? Mine's Brandon. I'm five."

"My name is Michael." Michael mutters, and he glares up at Ryan. "Your brother here took me."

"Hey, that's going a little- "

"Naw, it's cool. I know how you feel, he's a meanie sometimes. " Brandon makes a peace sign, which Michael regards with interest, then his eyes flicker down. They bug out when he takes in the tail. Brandon stares at it for a solid five seconds before he looks back at Michael. "You can use that?"

Michael nods, and his tail beats again, another scale falling off. He looks down, clearly worried. Brandon gasps. "What's wrong? Why'd your scale fall off?"

"I do not know." Michael says quietly, frowning. "But it hurts a little."

Brandon looks worried, too, and he looks up at Michael. "Can I touch it?"

Michael seems a little thrown off by this, and his eyes flicker up to Ryan's for a half-second. Devon sidles up and puts a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "I'm Lochte. Devon Lochte." He says, and Ryan notices with a smile that he's adjusted his voice to its lowest possible tone. "And I'm the boss of this house. Brandon, I don't think he wants you to touch- "

"No, it is fine." Michael murmurs, but he still looks a little uncomfortable. Brandon smiles and reaches into the water, carefully laying his hand on the fin at the end. Michael's tail waves a little, but other than that, it seems to be fine.  
Ryan lets himself really breathe for the first time that night.

After Brandon and Devon are done petting Michael and telling him about Florida, Ryan looks at his watch and sees that it's six in the morning. His mom's going to be back in three hours. 

"Okay guys, let's get back to sleep." He says, and it's met with a chorus of "awww"s from his brothers and only silence from Michael. 

"But Ryyyyy…" Brandon whines. "I'm not _tired_."

"Come one, Brand. Mom's gonna be back at nine and we'd better be ready for her, right?"

Brandon and Devon grumble and gripe all the way back to their room, then jabber on about the mermaid in the bathroom who is their new best friend, but the moment Ryan dumps them on their beds and pulls the covers around them, they fall asleep. He wipes a hand over his forehead and rubs at his eyes, trying to stay awake.  
Now, to fix the situation of his room, clean up pretty much everything, and figure out how to hide Michael, the mermaid in his bathtub, from his mother. Who is a mother, and can catch anything from a missing button to a missing dollar. 

After Ryan salvages as much of his stuff as he can from the spreading water and covers up the parts of the rug that are still wet, he rubs at his face to keep himself awake. Then he takes another deep breath and returns to the bathroom.

"Hey, so- " He starts, but Michael makes an affronted noise.

"You will not address me as a commoner!"

Ryan's starting to get really pissed off at him. "Fine. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to be absolutely silent for the next few hours while I try to figure out what to do with you."

Michael makes a face. "Fine."

Wow. Ryan wasn't expecting it to be that easy. "Why so obliging?"

"Would you rather I start shrieking again?"

"NO, really, it's fine."

Ryan glances over at Michael briefly for a second. He looks a little scared, still, probably spooked by his brothers, and more than uncomfortable. His tail is starting to beat again. "Um…do you need anything?"

"Yes." Michael snaps. "I need to get out of here. My fin is falling asleep."

Ryan sighs. "Dude, I know. Just wait a day. Please?"

Michael huffs and submerges under the water, and Ryan becomes suddenly aware that he's sulking. A few bubble rings pop at the surface.

"Fine then. I'll be out there." Ryan mutters, closing the door behind him.

He gets that, okay, it's not exactly great fun to be cooped up in a bathtub after sixteen years of frolicking in the Gulf of Mexico. And he'd probably be in even worse condition if he'd been hauled off and confined to a shitty old bathroom. 

Ryan sighs and flops onto his bed. Before he knows it, he's fast asleep again, mind spinning with what to do when tomorrow comes.

 

 

 

Ryan wakes sluggishly, wincing as the bright sunlight sears his eyeballs. There's a soft knocking at his door, and he sits up with a bolt, suddenly wide awake. He smacks his head against the wall and groans, holding his skull as he goes to the door.

But Ryan skids to a stop in front of the bathroom, from which, even outside it, he can hear a loud splashing. Cursing under his breath, he gingerly pulls open the bathroom door. Michael looks up at him, seemingly offended. "Ever heard of- " He begins, and Ryan can tell he's about to start on another tirade. Brat. Ryan rushes forward, finger on his lips.

"Please. Please, I am begging you, please don't start screaming."

Michael raises an eyebrow, but he looks like he's not going to blast anyone's ears out again. At least, for now. Ryan puts his hands together and does a little bow, because really, all he can do is not get on Michael's bad side(which he's pretty sure he's on the edge of.) Michael rolls his eyes and makes a disapproving noise.

Ryan lets himself breathe as he swings the door to his room open. His mom stands outside, and she smiles and kisses his cheek as Brandon zooms down the hallway with his new Lego airplane, making engine noises. "Hello, dear. How'd things go while I was gone?"

Ryan hates to lie to her, considering how much she'd been lied to by his father. But he knows that telling her even part of the truth would just make things worse. "Great. Kids got to bed early enough, I guess."

"You're growing into a man, Ryan." She smiles proudly, running her manicured nails through his curly hair. "My little baby."

"Mom…" Ryan groans, but he admits to himself that he likes it. 

He's wanted to be the provider for his family ever since his asshole of a dad walked out on them, ever since his mother got so depressed that she couldn't feed her children for a week straight. Ryan took over for that week, microwaving tamales and soup and cutting up fruit in the mornings, and gently reminding his mother to walk them to the bus stop. Until she found her strength again, Ryan made himself handle everything. 

Ryan knows that he looks exactly like his father, almost a frightening resemblance. He's seen photos of his dad when he was sixteen, and they could have been identical twins. And he knows that it's sometimes painful for his mother to see him, because instead, she sees her husband when they fell in love. And she's sees what he was before he realized he didn't love her anymore, as well. 

But they get along. They're past that now. And that's all that matters. 

Ryan smiles back and hugs her. "Thanks, mom." He mumbles, holding on tight. 

"Let's get some breakfast, yeah?" She grins. Ryan inherited her smile. "I bought Nutella…"

"Yesss."

 

 

After he, his mom, and his brothers mow down an entire loaf of bread and a banana each, Ryan creeps back up to his room, a slice hidden discreetly under his t-shirt. 

It occurs to him that he has no idea what Michael's supposed to eat, or what's even going to happen in the next… He doesn't even know how long Michael's going to be in there. Or what's going to happen to him.

Ryan realizes that Michael's actually being pretty chill.

He pulls open his door and listens carefully, frowning as he hears two voices coming from the bathroom. His eyes widen as he realizes that one is Jim's, and Ryan suddenly forgets all about the bread.

A quick look at his wide-open window explains how he got in, and Ryan rushes into the room to find Michael cowering in the corner of the tub, and Jim leaning eagerly toward him. There's a notepad and a camera in his lap, and Ryan catches him just as he raises it for a photo.

"Hey! Jim, what the- "

"Ryan!" Jim looks like he's pouting. "He's not letting me take a picture!" 

Ryan's about to ask what the fuck Jim's trying to do with the mermaid in his bathroom at nine in the morning when Michael lets out a shrill screech and bats the camera into the water. "Get this savage away from me!" Ryan lunges forward and claps a hand over Michael's mouth, as it looks like he's going to start screaming again, and Jim lets out a small wail as his camera sinks to the bottom of the bathtub, then Michael bites down really hard on Ryan's finger, and Ryan falls face-first into the tub.

After he's clambered out and gotten Jim to explain what the hell he was trying to do (which was to gather evidence of his discovery), Ryan dries himself half-heartedly and takes his ruined-once-again shirt off, tossing it in the corner.  
"Jim, you can't just barge into people's houses. Even if they have mermaids in them-"

"Mer- _man_." Michael interrupts, but he scowls and goes silent as Ryan glares.

"As I was saying…do you even know his name?"

Jim blushes and shuffles his notebook papers. "Well, no. And I'm sorry for breaking and entering." He makes a dreamy face and reaches out to pet Michael's tail. Michael hisses and slaps at his hand, which Jim pulls back, still looking not-quite-coherent. "I just…by god. What is your name, my dear?"

Michael looks spooked again, and he looks up at Ryan. "Can I trust this peasant?"

Ryan grimaces, Jim looking up at him with puppy eyes. "I think you can. But it's entirely up to you."

Michael rolls his eyes and turns to the "peasant." "My name is Michael. You may refer to me only by that title, or Prince Michael Cordelius Caspian Sachiel Phelps II of the Kingdom of Marina." With a huff, he flicks distractedly at the surface of the water and glares up at Jim. "Now you must tell me yours."

Jim snaps out of his haze long enough to introduce himself. "Hello, Michael. I'm Jim Deery. I'm very pleased to meet you, and I hope you'll let me ask some questions about you. I'm very curious."

Michael snorts. "And why would I allow you this privilege? You should be kissing my fins, peasant- "

"Please." Ryan grits, not in the mood to diffuse any more bickering. Michael sighs dramatically.

"Fine. Half an hour."

Ryan makes Jim promise that he can handle everything, and that this will be the _only_ time he visits Michael, then he goes and collapses onto his bed, making sure that the door's locked. If his mom even sets foot in his room, she's going to know something's up.

Ryan uses the peace and quiet (although there's an occasional angry burst from the bathroom) to try to sort through what he's going to do with Michael. 

He knows he can't stay in the tub forever. And he wonders if Michael can somehow get home, once Jim's done finding out whatever he needs to find out, or if…he'll be blocked. Ryan doesn't know shit about mystical creatures and stuff, but he's seen enough Disney classics to know that there's always some sort of issue with their journeys home. 

He groans and scrubs his hands over his face, barely opening his eyes when the bathroom door creaks open. Jim tiptoes out, his expression bordering on…apprehensive. "Ryan." He whispers, walking up and shaking him.

"What's up?" Ryan mutters, eyes closed. 

Jim sighs. "You're not going to be rid of him for a while, I'll tell you that." 

Ryan's eyes snap open at that, and he sits up to see Jim halfway out his window. "What? What do you mean?"  
Jim just gives him a grave nod and hops out, his flip-flops slapping on the staircase. 

Ryan watches him shuffle across the sand, then look back toward the bathroom with a groan.

"Shit."

The bread under his shirt is scratching him, too.

 

 

 

Before Ryan knows it, his mom's calling him down for lunch, and he still has no idea what Michael's supposed to be eating. She's cooked up some sort of pasta with cheese, and he decides that this'll do just fine. 

"Hey Mom, can I take this up to my room?" He mumbles, already feeling too guilty. She looks at him for a moment, almost with a trace of suspicion, and Ryan holds his breath.

He lets it out when she nods, bringing a bowl over to Devon. "Sure, honey."

Ryan tries not to go too quickly up the stairs, smiling at her all the way up. Then, once he's safely out of view, he darts into his bathroom.

Michael looks, as usual, like a mixture of bored and pissed off, and his eyes widen as he sees the pasta. "What is _that_?"

Ryan sighs, kneeling next to the bathtub and balancing the food on one side with his hand. "It's called noodles. Eat."

Michael looks suspiciously at it, leaning over the side of the tub. "You want me to consume that?" He snorts. "Please."

Ryan grits his teeth. "Well, that's all you're going to get, so I'd eat it if I were you. And it really isn't that bad, if you just try it…" 

He realizes that Michael's been staring at the fork the entire time he's been talking. "Um, do you know how to use that?"

Michael looks offended. "Of course. I am not inept like you." And with that, he snatches the fork up.

Ryan watches as he first tries to stab at the pasta with the non-pointed end, and fails, then when he finally figures it out, Michael has no idea how to twirl the noodles onto it. "Just let me."

Michael scowls and grumbles as Ryan shows him how to, well, feed himself. "Now you do it."

Their fingers brush together as Ryan hands the fork over, and for some reason, Ryan blushes and snaps his hand away. Michael doesn't seem to notice.

Ryan uses the time as Michael slowly but surely gets the pasta onto his fork to study Michael's face.

He's even…prettier (Ryan can't find another word) up close than he was in the water, his interesting features enhanced in the stark bathroom light. He could be considered attractive in a weird way at Ryan's high school. Except unconventionals are always euphemisms for the rejects. When Michael's large brown eyes dart up and narrow as he sees Ryan staring, Ryan blushes again and looks down.

"Why are you staring?"

"I'm not staring."

Michael doesn't look convinced, but he holds out his fork for Ryan to see. "Like this?"

Ryan smiles. "Yeah."

He's sort of kind of maybe hoping that Michael will smile back. But, of course, he doesn't, just glares and shoves the pasta into his mouth. Only to make a hacking noise and spit it out into the trash can next to the counter.

"What the hell?" Ryan's horrified. "How do you not like it?"

Michael's still bent over the trash, sounding like he's coughing up a hairball, but he surfaces eventually and yells, "You imbecile! You nearly killed me!"

"It's pasta!"

"Fool! I'm going to die!"

Ryan realizes that they're probably being incredibly loud, and he half-heartedly puts a finger to his lips. "Michael, can you please just…"

Michael looks livid, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but he quiets down. He's being surprisingly cooperative, for all of his bitching earlier. "I am never eating any of that human food again."

"Well…we could work with that." Ryan tries to think of what Michael would eat. "Um…how about fish sticks?"

Michael makes a face. "They contain seafood?"

Ryan nods. "They're pretty much fish with stuff called breadcrumbs on the outside." It's phenomenally awkward trying to explain human food to Michael. "They're, uh…really good. And they don't have too many calories."

"What are calories?"

"Um, they're…things that if you eat too much of, you can get fat."

"Ah." Michael seems to consider it for a moment, then claps his hands. "Bring me these so-called fish sticks."

Adding in an eye roll to make sure Michael doesn't view him as a slave, Ryan tromps down the stairs and opens the fridge. "Mom, we have any fish sticks?"

His mom frowns. "Ryan, I thought you just ate lunch."

 _Yeah, well, my mermaid pal in my bathtub regurgitated it_ , Ryan wants to say, but he just smiles. "I'm, like, going to starve. Kyle and I are gonna go surf later, so…picnic?"

It's lame and he knows it, but somehow his mom falls for it. "There's a box in the freezer."

By box, apparently she means "three are left in the box," but Ryan can only hope that Michael's used to going hungry. He brings them up on a paper plate, not bothering to gloss over it with any more explanations. 

Michael seems to perk up when Ryan comes in, nose scrunching up. "These are fish sticks?" He asks curiously, poking at one of them. Ryan can't help but think of a bewildered five-year-old, but, of course, Michael's next sentence throws that comparison out the window. "I will sample a modest amount."

"Okay. Just…" Ryan grimaces as Michael grabs one. "Okay."

Michael's face seems to light up as he tastes it, and he grabs the plate out of Ryan's hands. "This human food is delicious!" And just like that, he snarfs the rest of them down, reminding Ryan of a shark closing in on its prey. After he's done, Michael holds the plate out expectantly. "More!"

"Uh…that's all we have."

Michael looks furious. "Inadequate fool! Bring me more!"

Ryan grits his teeth. "I'll get more tomorrow. Sorry."

Michael pouts, tail swishing back and forth under the water, and Ryan finds himself actually wanting to please him. Like Michael has this effect that makes people want to serve. 

Ryan remembers that he was a prince before he was, er, removed from his natural environment, and that must be where he gets his bossiness. "Sorry. I promise I'll get some."

Michael looks up at him, brown eyes shining, and it looks like he's about to smile. But he doesn't. "Yes."

Ryan doesn't know what else to do, so he just gets up and mumbles something about having school prep to do. 

 

 

 

At dinner, Devon and Brandon almost go too far.

"Hey, Mom." Ryan says around mouthful of tamale. "Kyle's gonna drive me to school next week. Or, actually, I might drive him, just letting you know."

"Oooh, Ry's driving." Brandon giggles, pushing his salad around on his plate. Ike tuts and stabs some leaves for him. 

"Eat that, Brandon."

Brandon makes a face. "I don't see why all our _fish sticks_ ," He looks pointedly at Ryan. "Were stolen."

Ryan shrugs, grinning, but inside, he's begging Brandon not to take it further. "I'm a growing boy."

Brandon frowns. "No, wait! I bet you gave them all to Mi- "

Ryan's throat-clear is obnoxiously loud as he slaps Brandon's back. "OH MAN, CAN'T BREATHE."

That shuts Brandon up, because he looks like he's just remembered that he's not supposed to mention the mermaid. "Don't worry. You need food, and you could totally eat those by yourself." He mumbles, going back to playing with his lettuce. 

Ryan can feel Ike frowning, and he lowers his head, pretending that a loose string on his shorts is captivating his attention. "So mom, how was work?" He says half-heartedly.

Ike's a renowned lawyer in the state of Florida, and she'd had to work from home that day. "Ugh. Boring, as usual."

Ryan laughs, but Devon pipes up, "Well, it's okay! 'Cause yesterday wasn't boring at all, if you'd been there!"

Ryan's about to pull another throat-clear-slash-assault, but his mom beats him to it. "Oh, really? What happened?"

"Well, Ryan- "

"BEAT his Halo highscore." Ryan says, slamming his foot into Devon's calf under the table. Devon makes a strangled noise and kicks him back, but Ryan just glares. He knows he shouldn't have told them about this. "Nothing else."

Ike's starting to look painfully suspicious, smelling a rat, and Ryan desperately clanks his dishes together, standing up. "Well, I think I'm done now…"

"Ryan, you barely touched your food." Ike's razor-sharp gaze analyzes the scene playing out in front of her. Brandon's pushing his lettuce around again and giggling to himself, singing "Fish, fish, fish" over and over again, Devon's sulking and chomping angrily on his tamale, and Ryan's washing dishes with a determination she's never seen before. 

But she lets it go. "Alright." 

Ryan breathes out a sigh of relief as he goes up the stairs, shutting the door to his room behind him. "Michael?" He murmurs, switching on the light and creaking open the bathroom door.

He's surprised to see Michael curled up in the corner of the tub, asleep. His tail is beating slowly back and forth in his sleep, and it jerks forcefully once, a few scales drifting to the surface of the water.

Which is now nearly covered in them.

"Oh god." Ryan breathes, rushing forward as quietly as possible and gathering them before Michael wakes up. He wraps them up in a paper towel, and just because it's sort of scary, leaves them on the counter. Ryan wonders if something's wrong with Michael, like he's shedding or something, but more diseased-looking.

"Whatever." He mutters, looking around and praising god that Michael's still asleep. 

Sighing, Ryan goes back into his room, slumps down onto his bed, and falls asleep himself. 

 

 

Ryan's only a little afraid to check in the bathroom after he gets up the next morning, so he just skips over that and heads downstairs to snarf down a PowerBar and an orange. 

But as he goes back up to his room, firing off another excuse about school prep, he's filled with a sense of foreboding. Of course, he's always nervous around Michael, but this time, it feels like something's really wrong as he turns the handle of the bathroom door.

Ryan gasps in shock as he sees Michael.

His tail is completely gone, just not there anymore, and in its place are…

Legs.

Ryan lets out a squeak and tries to inch back out, but Michael's already waking up, rubbing at his eyes. "Ry-eehn? What- "

Then he looks down.

Ryan's pretty sure Michael's scream can be heard from all the adjacent states of Florida and beyond, maybe even across the Atlantic if someone's listening closely enough. 

"RYAN! WHAT HAS HAPPENED?!" Michael screeches, shrieking again as he finds that he can, indeed, move these things. Ryan rushes desperately forward. "Nothing, nothing, I swear I didn't do anything, please- "

"I'm…I'm…" Michael sucks in a breath, and Ryan braces himself. "I'M HIDEOUS!"

"Oh god." Ryan mutters under Michael's screams, and he thinks of his mom and brothers just down the stairs. He doesn't even know if they're awake yet, and everything's just out of control. "Michael, please, be quiet, shit- "

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Ryan finally just decides he can't take this anymore and he runs outside, grabs a scarf from the closet in the hall, bundles it up, and somehow ties it around Michael's mouth. He grabs Michael's wrists amidst all the struggling and hisses, "Michael. I know. That this. Is scary. But can you _please_ shut up. For ten seconds."

Michael looks spooked as hell, and Ryan realizes that he's probably being too harsh. He also realizes that what was covered before by Michael's tail is now…not covered.

Ryan sees Michael staring up at him, cowed into silence. "Sorry." He mutters, reaching quickly around Michael's head and untying it as fast as he can, before Michael pegs him as some rapist. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You're just…so loud."

Michael's still silent, but Ryan relaxes when he talks again, much more quietly. "I am- "

But he's interrupted by Ryan's mom's voice calling up the stairs, "Ryan, honey, is something going on?"

Shit.

Ryan freezes for a second, then he puts one eye to the crack of the doorframe. She's still downstairs. "Nothing, mom! Everything's good, just…uh…Kyle!" He says weakly, hoping that she'll go with it.

"Oh! Tell him hello!"

"Sure!"

"Oh, and honey, I'm going to the law firm for the day. Can you handle things while I'm gone?"

"Of course!"

Ryan lets out a relieved breath when he hears her move away from the landing, and he turns back to Michael, who looks like he needs a pint of blood. "Okay, it's fine. She's gone now."

Michael nods, and he shifts his legs experimentally. "There's _two_ of these."

It occurs to Ryan that, if Michael even knows what walking's supposed to be, he probably doesn't know how.

"Um, Michael."

Michael looks up, legs folded underneath him, and Ryan blushes. "Maybe you should put some clothes on."

"The things you wear." Michael just looks puzzled, but he shrugs. "If that is your standard of decency…" Michael glances down between his legs and frowns. "What is _that_?"

Oh wow. Ryan wasn't expecting this. "Um…" He blushes furiously again. "Uh, it's called a penis."

"What is it?"

"Just an organ. Don't do anything to it."

"Why?"

"Um…'cause…'cause it'll, like explode. I don't know." Ryan mumbles, pretty sure his head looks like a cherry. He'd really rather not explain the human male anatomy to a merman right now.

"You don't know?"

"Just…don't touch it. And when you need to pee…well, you'll figure it out." Michael shrugs again, and Ryan takes a deep breath. "Okay. Do you think you can stand up?"

He thinks things over, and he knows that if Michael can't (the likelihood of which is extremely high), he's going to have to put last year's weight training to use. 

Michael scoffs. "Of course." He gathers his legs up and kneels on the bottom of the bathtub, balancing carefully.  
Ryan moves a little closer, putting out a hand to the edge of the tub just in case Michael loses his balance, which he definitely will. He grimaces as Michael gets on one knee, biting his lip and grabbing for Ryan's hand.

Ryan holds onto Michael's hand, blushing slightly as he feels his skin tingle for some stupid reason. Michael gets shakily onto his feet, stays there for approximately two seconds, then lets out a small gasp as he loses his balance. Ryan quickly grabs onto him and pulls him out of the tub before he can crack his head open, setting him down on the counter.

"Real competent, there." He observes, and Michael glares, swinging his legs back and forth.

"That was a test." Michael snaps, clearly embarrassed. 

There's a moment of silence, then Ryan decides it's okay to put a hand lightly on his arm as Michael sways dangerously to the side, not used to having such an unwieldy lower half. "We should try to at least get out of the bathroom."

"Fine." Rolling his eyes, Michael tentatively puts his foot down on the tiled floor, making a squeaky noise as his skin hits the cold marble. He manages to get one pale leg down, but the moment he slips off the counter and puts weight on it, his knees start to buckle. 

"Shit." Ryan grabs Michael just before he tumbles to the ground, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist. "Do you just want- "

"No!" Michael glares, determined-looking, and Ryan gives up. But he keeps his hand out, just in case. 

"Okay…"

Michael manages to stumble to the bathroom door, and Ryan can tell that he's not weak, just unused to the feeling of having two extra limbs. But when Michael gets to the doorframe, he hangs onto it, leaning heavily. "If…" He blushes and looks over at Ryan. "If you could…"

Ryan sighs and goes over, wondering idly if his poor arms are up to this. "Yeah, whatever."

He awkwardly replaces his hand on Michael's side and just swings his legs up off the floor. Even though Michael's really light and he's still not entirely human, Ryan finds himself blushing as Michael's cold skin presses against his bare chest. He forces himself to take his mind off it, crossing his room and plopping Michael as gently as possible on his bed. "There."

"Thank you." Michael mutters, running his hands up and down his arms, and just so they don't have to look at each other, Ryan tosses him a hoodie. 

"Here, put this on." He turns away and roots through his drawer for a pair of sweatpants while Michael zips up the Gators-emblazoned sweatshirt. Ryan tosses him a pair and Michael looks at them suspiciously.

"My…legs," he spits out the word, "Go in these tubes?"

"Yup."

Ryan turns away again as Michael puts them on, but he did see that behind Michael's ears are two tiny, almost unnoticeable slits that were the gills. Apparently, his entire body has undergone the transformation.

"Okay." He says as soon as Michael's dressed. "You need to start walking, and fast."

"Clearly." Michael mutters, rubbing over his calf experimentally. "Teach me how."

"Um…"

"If _you_ can do it, I can do it." Michael scoffs, crooking Ryan closer with one finger. "Come."

Michael struggles to his feet and slings an arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Now. So, I…" He extends his right leg. 

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Want me to do it for you, princess?"

Michael glares, and Ryan can actually feel the sizzling heat. "You would not dare."

"Actually, I wouldn't." 

Michael glowers at him for a few more seconds just to be rude, then he gets his other leg forward. "Like this?"

"Yeah." Ryan's reminded of watching Brandon take his first few steps, and he tightens his arm around Michael. He could tumble to the ground at any second. "You got it."

Michael makes it to the window, and he grips the sill. A faint blush has crept into his cheeks, and for some fucked-up reason, Ryan finds it cute. "Thank you."

"No problem." 

Michael's eyes drift over to what's happening outside, and his jaw drops. "By Poseidon! There are so much of them!"

"Many." Ryan says. Michael ignores it, transfixed by all the humans walking around. The tourist season is at its never-ending peak, and at least a hundred people are on the beach, sunbathing, messing around in the water, and doing what tourists do best: making noise. Ryan grimaces. 

"Yup. Definitely not one of the perks of living right on the beach."

Michael turns back to him. "Do not jest. This is awe-inspiring."

Ryan's waiting for Michael to crack and smile, but apparently he's not trusting enough yet. "Ha. If you live here for sixteen years straight, you'd think differently."

"I would not thought." Michael smirks, and Ryan doesn't bother correcting his grammar again. It's kind of funny, and his accent just makes it more so. Maybe he can't speak English perfectly, after all. 

"They are just so…" Michael turns back to the people, eyes wide. "They move so easily. As if it requires no effort."

Ryan frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Michael sighs, carefully balancing on his new legs. He's definitely starting to get the hang of it. "There is so much _pressure_ , from the atmosphere, from everything, and you are able to just run and jump and…" He shakes his head. "I want my tail back."

Ryan wonders idly how the hell Michael knows about atmospheric pressure, but he lets it go. "It really isn't that hard once you get it down."

Michael raises an eyebrow, and it looks like a corner of his mouth is about to lift. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Ryan opens his mouth, but then something makes his words catch in his throat. He and Michael are having a real, live, legitimate conversation. With questions and answers. "Uh…" Ryan stutters. "W-well…" 

Then he sees the clock. "CRAP! My job!"

"What?" Michael snaps, whatever was going on dissolved. "What is this you speak of?"

"My job, shit, Ken's gonna kill me, shit…" Ryan swoops down on his bedside table and gathers his phone, a pair of swim trunks, and sunscreen. "I'll be back in three hours!"

"What? What am I supposed to be doing from now until then?!"

"Just…try to walk! I have to go!" Ryan calls through the door. "And STAY IN MY ROOM!"

"WHAT IF I DON'T WANT-" Michael starts to yell, but Ryan thinks better of it and quickly locks it from the outside. Another weird feature of Floridian architecture. 

"Hang tight! I'll be right back!" He pretends that he can't hear Michael's enraged roar as he dashes down the stairs.  
Luckily, his mom has already left for work, and Brandon and Devon are chilling in the living room. "Guys!" Ryan motions for them to come closer. 

"What is it?" Devon whispers conspiratorially, Brandon nodding beside him. "We can do it!"

Ryan rolls his eyes. "I need you two to make sure…" He eyes them both. "MAKE SURE that Michael doesn't leave my room."

"Why?" Devon demands. "What if he needs to?"

"Because…" Ryan makes up a horrible lie. "Because he's going to start up a typhoon if he gets out. He's pretty powerful."

That shocks his brothers into silence, and he gives them a little salute before his watch beeps loudly. "Crap. I gotta go." Ryan dashes toward the door, calling behind him, "And remember what I said!"

"You can count on us, big brother!" Brandon says happily.

Ryan lets himself stop for a second to catch his breath and pray that Brandon's right before setting off toward the beach.

 

 

 

After Ryan finishes off his lifeguard shift, he drags himself back to the house. He only had to save one screaming kid from drowning today, a rare low for the tourist swarm. 

"Guys, I'm home!" He calls, but they don't run out to greet him like they always do. Ryan frowns as he hears voices coming from the kitchen.

"And then you wait till the beeping sound…" That sounds like Devon.

"There it is!" Brandon.

"And I remove it." 

That one's deeper, and it sounds like…Michael.

Heart racing, Ryan bursts into the kitchen to find Michael, Devon, and Brandon all crowded around the microwave. "What the hell?!"

Michael turns around and regards Ryan with something like distaste. "Oh. _He_ has returned." 

Brandon immediately races forward and wraps his little body around Ryan's legs. "Ry-bear!!"

"Ry-bear?" Michael raises an eyebrow. "That is- "

"We aren't. Discussing that right now." Ryan glares down at Brandon, then rounds on Devon. "Why is he downstairs?"

"Who? Who's downstairs?" Devon looks everywhere in the room except Ryan's eyes, and Ryan unsticks Brandon from himself and bends to stare Devon in the face. "Devon, why is Michael downstairs?" Ryan glances over to see Brandon holding one of Michael's scales in fascination. 

"Um…" Devon's face resembles a tomato. "Well, he said he was cold, and he was getting sick, and he was hungry, and things were really boring around the house, so- "

"Devon." Ryan mutters. "We live in Florida. Remember? You can't really get cold in this state."

Devon's mouth twists around and around, and he frowns. "But he's a _mermaid_ , Ryan, and it's so awesome…"

Ryan sighs. "I'm still laying the blame on you, Dev. You're the older brother, and it was your job to be responsible. What if mom had come home?"

"I'm sorry…" Devon looks like he's about to start crying, and Ryan decides to let it go.

"Just don't- "

Suddenly there's a yell from the direction of the microwave, and Ryan's head whips up. He sees Michael clawing at his hair, which is now covered in what looks like…marshmallow fluff.

"You deceiver!" Michael screeches, and Brandon looks panicky.

"No, wait! That wasn't supposed to happen! It said two minutes was- "

Ryan's had enough. He stalks over and grabs Brandon by the scruff of his neck, looking at the marshmallow all over his arms, and glares at Michael. "Both of you, upstairs."

 

 

 

The minute Michael's done washing up in the bathroom, Ryan hears his mom come home. She must have taken the long route. "I'll be right back. Just stay in this room." He mutters through the bathroom door, not even sure if Michael hears him or not. 

"Hey, mom!" Ryan hugs her as she comes through the door, the smell of her perfume not overwhelming, but pleasantly there. "How was work?"

"Fine, fine. Save any drowning toddlers?"

"Just one." Ryan grins happily. It seems like she doesn't suspect anything yet. "I'll be in my room, okay?"

"Okay, dear." Her smile looks changed, for some reason. Ryan can't put his finger on it.

He quietly opens the door to his room and sees Michael standing by the window, back to Ryan. Ryan walks up next to him, seeing that Michael's looking out at the beach. It's getting dark, and the lit-up shops on the boardwalk are just starting to glow. 

"It is pretty, I guess." Ryan says, more to himself. It's been a while since he really _looked_ at the beach, and it refreshes him. 

Michael nods, and Ryan realizes that he's not really looking at the beach itself, but at the dark ocean beyond it, waves lapping against the shore. His eyes are softer than earlier, and there's something sad in his expression. 

"How are you going to get home?" Ryan asks quietly, wondering why Michael hasn't just gone yet. Maybe there's some sort of mystical magic thing where he can only leave at a certain time, like in _Lady In The Water_. 

"When I trust you, you will know." Michael murmurs, gaze still fixed on the ocean. Ryan blushes and looks away. A few seconds of silence pass. 

"They are calling me." Michael whispers, moving forward so his ear is pressed against the glass. His eyes slide closed for a second. 

"Can you hear it?"

Ryan follows suit, actually listening, but all he hears is the waves crashing. "No."

Michael looks away. "Of course you cannot."

 

 

 

The weekend before school starts is exhausting, and Ryan's almost ready to drop on Sunday. So far, he's managed to keep Michael hidden, which he really thinks he should win some sort of trophy for. But Michael's appetite is apparently ravenous, and he's had to buy ridiculous amounts of fish and crabs at the grocery store down the block.

"Why the five pounds of salmon, Ryan?" Luis, the old guy who works the counter asks, and Ryan barely has the energy to respond.

"Uh…science experiment."

"Alright, then." 

But when he gets back to the house, his mom is there. Shit. Ryan forgot it was a Sunday. "Hey, mom." 

"Ryan." Ike's smile is far too sweet. "What's with all the fish?"

Ryan gulps and feels his neck dampen. "Uhh…"

His mom raises an eyebrow. "Is that enough for Michael?"

"Oh, yeah, I think-" Ryan begins, but then he slams his mouth shut. It just falls open again as he turns to look at his mom, who seems triumphant. 

"H- how…" Ryan stammers, but Ike moves forward and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

"It's alright, dear. I just wish you'd tell me if you have a merman in your bathtub."

As she starts walking away, the oven dinging, Ryan calls after her in a daze, "But how did you know?"

She turns and smiles. "I've lived in Florida much longer than you have, Ryan, and I've seen a lot of strange things in my lifetime. Trust me, it could be worse."

Ryan's left to gape at her retreating back, and he can only blink stupidly when she calls back to him. "Oh, and Ryan?"

He nods by way of acknowledgment. Ike laughs softly. "Next time, I think Michael would prefer tuna. With him being an Atlantic merman and all."

Ryan just scrubs a hand over his face and groans, the smell of the fish embedding itself in his nose. 

 

 

 

His mom insists that Michael eat dinner with them that night, and Michael ends up convincing her that he was violently captured by "those barbarians." Ike keeps shooting him reproachful looks, and Ryan eventually mumbles an excuse about putting Brandon to bed and goes back to his room. 

As he's getting changed, Ryan thinks things over, and he finds that he's actually thankful that his mom's being so chill about the whole thing. That she doesn't mind him having to take care of a mermaid for god knows how long.  
Ryan's snapped out of his reverie when the door clicks open and Michael comes in. "Ry-eehn, clothe yourself."

Ryan rolls his eyes and gets a shirt over his head, tossing one to Michael. "You can have the bed. I'll get the floor." He tells Michael, laying out a sleeping bag. Devon and Brandon apparently were teaching Michael how to walk while he was gone, and Michael looks like he's been doing it his entire life now. Not like he belongs in the ocean. 

"Thank you." Michael says quietly, and Ryan's surprised that he's being so polite. He lets himself smile. At least Michael's not screaming at him anymore. 

"Get some rest, okay?"

He falls asleep counting Michael's steady breaths, overly tired and the opposite of excited for school.

 

 

When Ryan wakes up to Ike shaking him, whatever excitement he had left is eliminated. "Dear, I want you to take Michael to school with you today." She says distractedly as her phone buzzes. 

"What?! But- "

"No buts. You can't leave him here." 

Ryan's mouth opens and closes, and his eyes drift over to Michael's sleeping form in his bed. "Mom, what am I supposed to say to the teacher? He has a weird accent, and he sometimes can't speak English right, and…" At Ike's look, he trails off, throwing up his hands. "Fine. But don't blame me if you get a call from the principal."

Ike smiles and ruffles his curly hair. "That's my boy." After she leaves, Ryan drags himself up from the floor and shakes Michael gently. "Michael, get up." Michael mumbles something in his own clicking, weird language and buries his face further into the pillow. Ryan shakes him harder. "C'mon, Michael. We have to get to school."

He manages to get Michael awake and his teeth brushed, then he roots around in his drawers for something that Michael can wear. He tosses a t-shirt and jeans behind him. 

Michael comes out of the bathroom naked, and Ryan looks away immediately, because he's a gentleman, thank you. "Here, put those on."

"I do not see why I must accompany you." Michael whines as he pulls on the clothes, yawning and stretching.

"Yeah, nor do I, really." Ryan mutters, trying to come up with a plan. He pulls out his phone and calls Kyle. "Gimme a minute, I gotta talk to Kyle."

"Yo." Ryan yawns as soon as Kyle picks up. "Can you still pick me up?"

"Dude, I don't know if I can fucking go to school after what just- "

"Kyle. Come on, man. I need someone to get Michael and me there, and- "

"Michael's coming?" Kyle whisper-shouts, and Ryan frowns. "Man, he's gonna fucking murder me, I don't know about this shit."

"Am I still alive?"

Kyle grunts something about homicidal sea creatures, and Ryan grins. "I'm still breathing and I've had him in my house for an entire fucking week. You're gonna be fine. He's not, like, lethal."

"Fine. But you two are sitting in the back."

"Kay, thanks. See you in ten?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Ryan clicks his phone off and turns to Michael, who looks like he's falling back asleep on the bed. "C'mon, let's get to school." Michael whines and shifts, and Ryan rolls his eyes, reaching his hand out. "Let's go."

Ryan helps Michael up and they head outside to wait for Kyle.

 

 

 

"I can't believe you're going to school." Kyle mutters back to Michael, who seems confused by the whole idea. "I mean, what the hell was your mom thinking, like- "

"Kyle, we have to think of an alter ego, and _fast_." Ryan grits as they pull into the St. Augustine High School parking lot, Kyle parking his beat-up Impala at the farthest end.

"Okay, well, he could be your second cousin once removed." Kyle suggests, and Ryan decides to just go with it. "From…Michael, will you say something?"

"Absolutely not." Michael sniffs, then goes back to pulling at the straps of his backpack, which is just filled with old books from seventh grade. "I do not see why I must transport all this detritus when- "

"Spain." Ryan and Kyle say at the same time, nodding. 

"It's the closest we'll get to his accent, even if he's a bit pale." Kyle says grimly, turning to Michael. "Michael, you're going to be Ryan's cousin from Spain, okay?"

Michael frowns. "But I am from- "

"Just go with it. Please, I am begging you, don't even mention anything water-related." Ryan says, making a praying gesture. "Just act all Spanish and stick close to me, okay?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Fine."

"Just…just go along. We're gonna get you through this." Ryan reaches forward and stops him just before they get in the school, even though they're already ten minutes late, because Michael's gills will still be seen by the scrutinizing cheerleader group, no matter how small. He reaches a hand up to Michael's hair and musses it down behind his ear. Michael hisses and bats at Ryan's hand. "What are you doing?"

"Just covering up the gills." Ryan takes a deep breath, facing the school's entrance. "Okay. Let's go."

The moment they walk in, it feels like the entire hallway turns and stares. A group of passing nerds ogle Michael, wondering who this new addition is. They get ten feet before they hit the wave of jocks who Ryan sometimes hangs out with, and Brad, their leader and senior class rep, steps forward. 

"Reez, who's this?" He drawls, gesturing to Michael and grinning. "Hey, bro, you- "

"Just my cousin. Sorry, dude, we gotta get to class." Ryan bumps his fist while discreetly blocking Michael from his view. "Catch you later, though?"

"Sure thing."

They get to Kyle's locker and it would look fishy if Kyle didn't stop, so he breaks off. "See you in class." Kyle mutters, and Ryan nods, swallowing.

Ryan's heart pounds as they pass the group of popular girls. They're much harder to shake off. Of course, Avery Levine giggles right away, putting a long-nailed hand on Ryan's shoulder. 

"Ooh, Ryan, who's this?" She eyes Michael, and Michael stares back, one eyebrow raised. "He's adorable."

"Um, this is my cousin…" Ryan races for a name in his head, "My cousin Miguel from Spain."

"Hello." Michael says, and he nails it with the accent. Ryan congratulates himself in his head. 

Avery giggles again, twirling her hair around her finger. What an airhead. "Hey, cutie. What classes are you guys in?"

Luckily, the first period bell rings before Ryan has the chance to answer, and he drags Michael off in the opposite direction. "Well, we gotta get to class!"

"Good job so far." Ryan whispers in Michael's ear, pulling him toward his homeroom. "Just keep it up."

Michael nods, looking kind of like he's about to pass out, and Ryan grips the back of his arm. "Don't worry. We're gonna get through this."

Michael still looks worried, but he lets Ryan take him into the geology classroom. His teacher, Mrs. Saunders, comes up to him and narrows her beady eyes. Her hooked nose completes the vulture look. "Mr. Lochte, who is this? You're supposed to alert faculty ahead of time before bringing in a guest, and certainly on the first day of school."

Ryan has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Of course, Mrs. Saunders. I'm sorry." She looks less deadly than she did before, and Ryan tugs Michael forward. "This is my cousin from Spain. His name is Miguel."

"Oh!" Mrs. Saunders looks charmed. "How do you do, young man? You must be so excited to be in America."

Michael stares at her bony hand when she offers it forward, and Ryan curses silently. Nudging Michael's side, he whispers, "Take her hand," and Michael raises his arm stiffly in what could marginally pass for a handshake. 

"Sorry. In the part of Spain where he comes from, they're not used to a lot of contact like that." Ryan mutters as he pulls Michael away, but Mrs. Saunders catches onto his sleeve.

"Ryan, shouldn't you introduce Miguel to the class?"

Ryan starts to sweat, and he swallows loudly, tugging Michael toward the front. "Sure."

Mrs. Saunders yells, "EVERYONE QUIET!" and the class snaps to attention. "Class," She says sweetly, "Ryan has someone to introduce."

Ryan closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, the entire class is staring. Michael moves further behind him, but Ryan stomps discreetly on his foot and pulls him back in front. "Okay, guys. Hi." He clears his throat. "Um, this is my, uh, cousin Miguel. He's from Spain, and he's going to be visiting for a while."

"Say hi, class." Mrs. Saunders says, turning around to write Michael's name and country on the board, but a lot of them don't. It's because they're busy ogling Michael. Ryan actually turns around to make sure everything's okay, but Michael looks normal, even if a little spooked. "Miguel, would you like to tell us a little about Spain? Speak a little Spanish for the class?" Mrs. Saunders simpers, and Ryan's throat constricts. He starts to crank out an excuse, but Michael just starts talking.

"Hola, mi nombre es Miguel. Como esta todo el dia de hoy? En realidad, yo no soy de España en absoluto, pero es probable que no puedo entender lo que estoy diciendo de todos modos."

What the _fuck_ , Ryan thinks as the class oohs and aahs, _where the fuck did that come from-_

"So, you're, like, fluent?!" Brandy McKinnan says from the front, chomping on her gum and batting her eyelashes, and Michael nods. 

"Si, chica."

While Brandy squeals and swoons, Mrs. Saunders claps her hands again, obviously mad that a high schooler just stole her new flame. "Alright, settle down, class, settle down." She fixes Ryan with a glare. "Ryan, show Miguel to a seat."

Ryan's heart is still pounding as he flops down in the back with Michael, and he leans close to Michael's ear. "How…you can speak Spanish?" He hisses, and Michael rolls his eyes.

"No. But I saw some posters outside the classrooms we were passing, and I was able to figure some things out." Michael says, and Ryan can't fathom how the fuck he "figured some things out" in ten minutes. 

Ryan wonders as Mrs. Saunders drones on and on about the school values and everything she said the previous year, but in different wording, if Michael may just be brilliant. That kind of inhumanly-smart genius trait that was in those sci-fi comics he read when he was little. Except he literally _isn't_ human.

Once Mrs. Saunders lets them out for their second period, after homeroom, Michael is swarmed by the class into the hallway. Ryan is engulfed by the horde and he finds them separated, the students pinning Michael to the wall. 

"So, you're, like, Spanish? Is that why you can speak Spanish so well? Cause you like, live in Spain?" Brandy keeps squealing, and soon the entire hall is going nuts.

"Where do you live? Madrid? Mexico City? That's in Spain, right?"

"Do you know Penelope Cruz?"

"Do you have any churros?" 

Michael's looking more and more like he's about to collapse, and Ryan steps in, trying to grab him, but it's no use. The clambering mob just thickens. Ryan eventually fights his way through and grabs Michael's arm. "C'mon, Miguel, we have class- "

Ryan pulls Michael out of the crowd to booing and hissing, and he drags him off to Biology. 

"Just don't say anything, okay? I'll tell him you aren't fluent in English yet." Ryan hisses, and Michael nods. "Go get us a desk in the back."

Kyle waves Michael over to him, and Ryan clears his throat, going up to Mr. Parker, their three-hundred-pounds-of-muscle former Marine Biology teacher. Mr. Parker gruffly waves off "Miguel" and tells Ryan to get back to his seat, growling something about the damn dagos taking over the world.

"I think we're safe." Ryan whispers as class starts, but Michael's still looking spooked from the swarm earlier. "Don't worry, I won't let that happen again." Michael nods and leans back as Mr. Parker screams at them all to shut up and start working on their Punnett Squares. 

History and Math have always been Ryan's stronger subjects, but with Science, he always feels like he just can't _get_ it. Like his brain is just programmed not to cooperate with Punnett squares and genomes and all that stuff. But at least it's not as bad as English.

"Miguel, ya know how to do this?" Mr. Parker looms above them, staring down at Michael. He nods mechanically. "Good." 

"Ryan!" Michael hisses as soon as Mr. Parker lumbers away. "Is this correct?"

Ryan looks over Michael's Punnett square to find each one exactly right. "Whoa. Uh, yeah."

Michael takes it back without a word, and when Mr. Parker bangs on the desk as his signature way of getting the class's attention, he nearly jumps into Kyle's lap. 

"Alright, kiddies! If ya think you're so smart, try this baby on for size!" Mr. Parker points to a vaguely outlined specimen on the board. "Judgin' by the appearance, what is the gene pattern and chromosome identification?"

There's a good ten seconds of silence, then Michael clears his throat across from Ryan. Ryan sees his hand go up and wills it down as hard as he can, but Mr. Parker's already seen it.

"MIGUEL?" Mr. Parker scoffs, but it's more of a roar. "You got the answer?"

Michael looks like his throat is freezing over, but he squeaks, "Yes. It would be a Br gene and XX chromosome."  
Mr. Parker arches an eyebrow, and Ryan has to physically keep his mouth closed. "Capital B?"

"Yes." Michael's looking anywhere but in Mr. Parker's face, and Ryan tightens his grip on his books in case they need to run for it.

"Well, ain't you just a little smartass, son." Mr. Parker mutters, then he goes back to lumbering around the room and checking over their squares. 

"What the hell?" Ryan hisses as soon as the bell for the end of class rings, grabbing Michael and pulling him alongside him. "How are you so smart?"

"It really isn't that hard." Michael rolls his eyes. "You just examine the specimen, determine what gene- "

"Okay, great. Now stop." Ryan runs a hand through his hair. "We have to get to Art, thanks."

They get through Art reasonably under cover, but midway through, Michael starts loudly complaining about the clay getting under his fingernails. Ryan hustles him into the bathroom and cleans them off, and when they get back out, class is thankfully over. 

Lunch, however, is something else. Michael is unhealthily interested with the conveyor belt of empty trays, and Ryan has to physically prevent him from climbing on more than once. 

"Dude. It's a _burrito_." Ryan says as Michael unwraps his Chipotle that they picked up on the way to school, an awed expression on his face. 

"But it is so…aerodynamic…" Michael says as the tortilla flips around in his hand, eyes wide.

Ryan just sighs and looks out at the rest of the student population, wondering if they've already figured him out.

 

 

 

For the entire week, school continues that way, and by the end, Ryan's jumpy, paranoid, and ready to collapse. On Friday, he barely has the energy to drop Michael and his brothers off at the house, lifeguard for a couple hours because he still does small shifts throughout the school year, and get himself back home for schoolwork.

After he's finally finished everything at eleven, Ryan trudges up to his room, yawning. Michael's sitting on his bed, and Ryan's surprised he hasn't crashed already. 

"Hey." Ryan says, and Michael turns to face him.

"Ryan. Sit."

Ryan feels a twinge of annoyance at being bossed around by an obnoxious merman who's only his age, but he sits next to Michael. "What's up?"

"I…"

For the first time since they've met, Michael seems at a loss for words. 

"What?"

Michael looks directly at him, and even though he isn't human, the force of his gaze is too strong for Ryan to hold it. He pretends to pick at an exciting string hanging off his shorts. "Ryan, I am sorry I attacked you."

Wow. That's not what Ryan was expecting. 

"Uh…well, it's fine. I guess. You didn't hurt me."

"But I apologize anyway." 

Ryan can't tell if Michael actually means it or not, but he's been wondering about _why_ Michael attacked him. "Why did you?"

Michael sighs heavily. "Well, my kingdom was…heavily weakened. There are many wars that Poseidon is fighting at the moment, and he requires our services. As a result of this, Marina has made many undesirable enemies. Old sea spirits, monsters…" Michael looks pained. "The boundaries of the territory were not as strong as they used to be. We needed the power of a human soul to strengthen them again."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Couldn't you just fix them yourself?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Not even my lord Poseidon could do that. You humans…there is something about your hearts that is so powerful. We have tried to replicate it, but nothing can compare."

"Oh. Sure."

"So, that is why I tried to drag you in. I could hear your soul from all the way under the ocean. Your heart…" 

Then, Michael smiles.

His face is completely transformed. His eyes are suddenly warm and soft, their brown lighting up, and Ryan finally sees how much of a difference that expression can make. 

"Your heart is very strong, Ryan."

Ryan blushes way too hard and looks down. "Well, thanks. I guess."

When he glances back up, Michael's not smiling anymore, but the ghost of it is still present on his face. Ryan wishes it would stay, just for a little. 

 

 

 

In order to relax, Ryan's mom tells him to take Devon, Brandon, and Michael to the Florida State Fair that weekend. Ryan used to be obsessed with it as a kid, and that obsession has been passed on to Brandon and Devon.

Luckily, the thing is held just a block from their house, so Ryan's spared the painful experience of Michael plus his brothers in a car. When they get there, Brandon zooms off toward the spinning teacups with money and tickets falling out of his pockets, Devon puffs up his chest and heads toward the kissing booth, and Michael just stares.  
"Is this what you humans do for recreational activities?" He gapes, and Ryan resists the urge to sigh.

"Yup."

"And those rides…are powered by electricity?"

"Yup."

"And you can turn upside down without falling out?"

"That's what they say."

"Is that fluffy object called cotton candy?"

"As far as I know."

They go through the entire fairground like that, until Michael sees the first clown and absolutely freaks, screaming something about the "TERRIBLE LIPS." He runs off toward the roller coaster, and the moment he sets eyes on it, he starts tugging on Ryan's sleeve and asking him about average speeds and physical properties and materials and Ryan wants to die. Everyone's staring at them. So, in order to satisfy Michael's curiosity, Ryan decides to take them on the thing.

"You ready for this?" He asks as they're waiting, and Michael looks at him dismissively.

"Please. I have hunted giant squid with the most elite soldiers of my army. I can handle anything."

"Okay, then."

They get on, the compartment shoots off onto the track, and Michael screams. The sound is so high pitched and shrill, Ryan can actually feel the waves going through his head, but then he's yelling too because they just did a flip, and Michael's fingers squeeze his arm so hard he feels like it's going to fall off, and then it's over and they're panting and gasping.

"Never…again…" Ryan says, because he feels slightly deaf in his left ear and things are spinning around him.

"No…" Michael says. When Ryan looks over at him, he's seaweed-green. 

Ryan can't help it. He lets out a snort, which turns into a laugh, which turns into full-on howling. Michael just stands there and looks pissed, and when Ryan's recovered, he smacks the back of his head.

"You were just as scared, fool."

Something about Michael's voice makes Ryan backtrack, and then he finally gets what's different.

Michael's accent is less pronounced, more of an inflection now. His r's aren't as sharp, his vowels are sounding more normal, and he sounds more…American. Disturbingly. 

Michael's walked ahead of him now, and he turns back. "Ryan?"

It's no longer Ry-eehn, but Ryan puts it out of his mind. "Yeah."

"Michael! Look what I won!" Brandon and Devon suddenly pop out of nowhere, and Brandon has a massive stuffed Pikachu in his arms. "I won it! Look what I won! I won!"

"Amazing!" Michael proclaims, bending down so that he can hold the Pikachu. "What is it?"

"It's Pikachu." Brandon tells him excitedly. "He may be one of the smallest Pokemon, but he's the mightiest."

Michael seems a bit confused as to what a Pokemon is, but he nods along. "So he is like you."

Brandon laughs. "Yeah!"

Michael turns back to look at Ryan then, and Ryan's breath catches in his throat, because Michael's smiling again and it's just as beautiful. His slightly bucked teeth just make it cuter. Ryan gulps and looks away, because the sunlight is making Michael practically glow and he just can't handle it anymore because a _merman_ is making him question his sexuality and what the fuck- 

"Ooh, Ryan." Devon says, sidling up next to him and wiggling his eyebrows. "You liiiiike him."

"What? No!" Ryan barks, flushing. "You're completely wrong."

"I know these things. You can't hide it from me." Devon grins. "But don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"Except there's nothing to tell, because guess what? I DON'T LIKE HIM."

He doesn't even know how Devon knows about this stupid stuff, he shouldn't even know what gay is. Ryan wonders if Devon knows a lot more about the world than the average sixth-grader. If he can fill a book with the things Devon's got hidden away from big brother. 

"Don't worry, Ry. You can trust me."

"Shut up!"

Devon just snickers and runs over to play catch with the Pikachu, leaving Ryan desperately trying to deny what might just be the truth.

 

 

 

On Monday, Ryan can barely talk to Michael in the morning and makes Kyle pick them up, because he doesn't know if he can make it to school all alone in a car with Michael. Luckily, it seems like no one really notices Michael's accent being less pronounced, but then again, Michael doesn't talk that much during the school day. 

Things go smoothly that day, but on Tuesday, Ryan loses track of where Michael is during sports practice. "Shit." He mutters, looking up into the stands where Michael's supposed to be sitting, but isn't.

Ryan gets out as early as he can and hurries back into the main building, checking all the classrooms on the first floor, but he can't find Michael anywhere. 

He hears voices coming from the Chemistry lab and looks in, then freezes.

The three seediest upperclassmen, the Mullins triplets, are in the room with Michael. The triplets are known for being hardcore stoners and all were held back a year. Travis, the grossest-looking, has rumors circulating about him that he sent the teachers death threats when he didn't pass Pre-Calc. 

Michael looks absolutely terrified, and Ryan can only hear the triplets' murmuring through the door. Ryan feels his throat tighten as Travis takes a few aggressive steps toward Michael, and before he can process anything, Michael's being shoved back against the blackboard. 

Ryan feels his brain kick in and he yanks the door open, crosses the room in two strides, and puts his body between Michael and Travis. "Don't fucking touch him." He hears himself say.

"Ryan-" Michael whispers from behind him, but he's interrupted by Travis's stupid laugh. 

"Aw, we have our cute little couple now. C'mon, Lochte. You know better than to be fucking a dago like that."

The term makes Ryan's blood surge with something that feels like protectiveness, and he shoves Travis back. "What the fuck did you just call him? And he's my fucking cousin, you dumb lump."

Travis looks shocked, but he recovers soon enough and his piggy eyes narrow. Ryan swallows. He's in better physical condition, but Travis has to be fifty pounds heavier and at least two inches taller. "Aw, is lover boy mad?" He turns back to his brothers, snickering. "You're a fucking faggot, Lochte."

Then, before Ryan even knows what's happening, something's roaring out of the nearby lab sink and the triplets are on the floor, soaked and spluttering. Ryan whips around, and Michael's looking down at the Mullins brothers with one of the most frightening expressions he's ever seen.

The water.

Michael must have some sort of control over it.

 _Wicked_ , Ryan wants to say, but then Michael's grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the classroom, away from the triplets, and then they're outside the school. When Michael plops down on the curb, he still hasn't let go of Ryan's hand, and it's only then that Ryan notices that Michael's is shaking. "I'm sorry." He mutters, and honestly, Ryan's glad to have Michael there. The triplets can be pretty intimidating sometimes. 

"It is fine." Michael says, shifting. He stands and pulls Ryan up with him. "Come, let us go back to your house."

Ryan smiles. "Roger."

After Kyle drives them back to the house, Ryan remembers that there's something he has to do. "Michael." He says, pausing at the door.

Michael looks straight at him, but the eye contact isn't as overwhelming as usual, for some reason. "Yes?"

"Thanks. For doing your thing back there."

Michael gives him a smile, which is fleeting, but stays imprinted in Ryan's mind for a few seconds afterward. "It was not a problem."

 

 

 

After that, it's like Tuesday and Wednesday just fly by, and Ryan realizes just how much Michael's starting to fit into his life. It's a little startling. He wonders how and when Michael's going to go back home, but Ryan doesn't really want to bring it up. 

On Thursday, Ryan wakes up and immediately has to get himself to the bathroom to barf up last night's dinner. His mom rushes in before she has to go to work, proclaims him unfit to attend school, then bustles out the door.  
Michael doesn't seem to understand that they can't go to school, and Ryan has to stop him multiple times from walking right out the door, stating firmly that he can "go by himself." Luckily, Brandon's home that day, so he entertains Michael by trying to teach him about Pokemon stats.

Ryan drifts into unconsciousness way too early and wakes up at noon the next day, feeling better but still a bit throw-up-y. He checks the school website and praises the Lord above when it says school has been canceled for a faculty work day. 

"What is a work day?" Michael asks, giving Brandon a piggyback around the room. They've gotten to be pretty good friends, as far as Ryan can see. He hopes they're not plotting anything against him. 

"Just when the teachers make up excuses for being too busy to teach us anything." Ryan grins. "We pray for those things."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "How studious of you."

Ryan clicks his tongue against his teeth. "You know it."

"Ryan!" Brandon says from inside his closet, rummaging around. "You promised you'd teach me how this weekend."

"How to what-" Ryan starts, but then Brandon finds what he's looking for and he pulls it out with a flourish. It's Ryan's old skateboard that's about a foot too short for him now, and Ryan remembers telling Brandon that he'd show him a few tricks. "Oh…you sure?" He hasn't been on his board for a while.

"Yup. And you can teach Michael, too."

"Oh. Uh, I don't know about- "

Michael looks up. "Eh? What is it? What?"

Ryan sighs. "Alright. Let's go."

They walk down to the park right next to the beach, and it turns out that Brandon's got an innate talent or something, because he picks it up even faster than Ryan did when he was little. Within half and hour, Brandon's already tried his first ollie. 

Michael, however, is an entirely different case, and after ten minutes of trying to explain how to get onto the skateboard without screaming and falling off, Ryan gives up. Michael glares and looks pissed off as Ryan does a few ollies, and Ryan realizes that Michael has a very competitive streak. Very. 

"Bah. I just need to practice." Michael smirks, looking toward Brandon, who's on the swings. "Brandon! What is this?"

Ryan watches Michael gradually learn how to swing himself back and forth, and he laughs out loud as Brandon shows off his skills, standing up in the seat. Before he knows it, Ryan's phone is out and the camera is snapping.

Ryan's even shocked at himself, because he doesn't even take that many photos, and he tries to convince himself that it's just for his mom. But he knows he can only pretend that's the reason for so long.

"Come on, guys. Let's get back to the house."

On the walk back, Brandon runs ahead, challenging Michael to a race, and Ryan walks behind them, studying the photo. It's artsy in a weird way, with the dusky light and bright yellow of the swing set. Brandon's head is thrown back in laughter, but it's Michael's face that grabs the attention. He's looking directly at the camera, somehow not blurred even though he's in motion, and the tiniest smile plays at his lips. 

Ryan feels something tighten in his chest, and he shivers slightly, even though it's eighty-five degrees outside. He suddenly remembers that it's almost October.

He looks ahead and sees that Michael and Brandon have stopped for him at the house.

"Hurry up!" Michael yells, and Ryan is once again struck by how normal it all seems. Like Michael has been there his whole life.

"Coming." He says quietly, putting his phone away.

Brandon slumps up to his room and within five minutes, Ryan can hear his soft snoring. There's not much else to do, so he flips on the TV and changes the channels around. There's pretty much nothing on except for the last half of _Titanic_ , so he settles for that and flops down at one end of the couch.

"What is _that_?" Michael's voice comes from behind him, and Ryan looks up to see him padding across the room, wearing Ryan's old long-sleeve Nirvana tee and flannel pants. 

"Uh, a TV. The movie's _Titanic._ "

Michael sits next to him, and Ryan is suddenly very aware of the warmth pressed against his side. He can feel every one of Michael's breaths. "As in the ship that could not sink, but did?"

"Yeah, that one." Ryan laughs softly.

They sit in silence, but it's not really awkward. Michael's presence is oddly comforting, and Ryan realizes that a good number of his nights before Michael were spent alone. 

The movie reaches the point where Jack is making Rose promise never to let go, and he's about to die. Ryan feels his throat getting a little tight even though he's seen it at least five times. "Um, this part is always really sad." He says. Ryan looks over at Michael, and his eyes widen.

Michael has tears streaming down his face, and his small sobs start out quiet with each breath, then escalate until he's full-on wailing. 

"Oh my god! Michael! What's wrong?" Ryan asks, frantic. He doesn't even know if it's the movie's fault. 

Michael sobs, wiping gingerly at his cheeks with his sleeve. "It is…so…sad…" He gasps out between breaths, and then the part where Jack sinks under the water comes on, and he starts really sobbing, pressing his face into his knees, which are drawn up in front of him. 

"Oh…well, it's not real, you know." Michael just cries harder, shoulders convulsing and breaths stuttering out of him.  
Ryan doesn't know what else to do, so he just awkwardly rubs Michael's back. Surprisingly, Michael doesn't try to push him away, just keeps crying. "Um. Do you wanna turn it off?"

Michael looks up at him, eyes red and teary, and shakes his head. He looks back at the screen, and Rose is starting to cry, too, so that makes him sob harder, and everything's just a mess at this point. "Yikes." Ryan says, and since Michael's not pushing him away, he puts his arm around Michael's shoulders. "I know. It's really sad."

Michael doesn't respond, just lets Ryan's arm stay where it is. The ending of the scene has no effect, and Ryan starts to think that maybe it's not even the movie. Maybe it's something worse, maybe Michael's homesick. Or just sad, for some reason Ryan will probably never understand. 

A few minutes later, Michael's calmed down and he pulls away a little, leaving a space that feels so empty on Ryan's shoulder. "I am sorry…" Michael hiccups, uncurling his body. "I just…I…"

"Relax. It's fine." Ryan murmurs, blushing slightly. He's never been the most comfortable when other people (or mermaids, for that matter) display emotions that strongly. "Here, let me get water or something."

Michael sniffles slightly, watching as he gets up. "Okay."

"I'll be right back."

After Ryan's poured a glass, he peeks around the kitchen corner to the couch. At least Michael's not crying anymore.

Ryan closes his eyes for a second, suddenly aware of his pounding heartbeat. It's a little hard for him to process what just happened. The glimpse of human expression Michael just let him see.

 _Just don't think about it,_ he tells himself, but of course that's impossible. 

Taking a deep breath, Ryan opens his eyes and walks back into the living room, where _Titanic_ is finishing itself up. "Hey, want this?" He asks quietly, coming around the side of the couch and stopping when he sees Michael.

Michael's curled up in a ball at the opposite end, dead to the world. Ryan doesn't quite get how someone can just fall asleep after bawling their eyes out. 

"Oh, geez." He mutters, setting the glass down. "Michael, wake up."

When Michael doesn't do anything, Ryan shakes his shoulder gently. "Wake up. You can't sleep down here." Michael makes a soft, whiny noise and bats at Ryan's hand. Ryan sighs. Michael reminds him of Brandon when he was really little. "Fine." 

He debates with himself for a minute, then leans down and manages to get one arm around Michael's back. Ryan picks him up as gently as possible, because he knows if he wakes Michael up now, he's going to be killed in a very torturous manner. "Come on." Michael murmurs something and kind of just pulls at Ryan's t-shirt, but he doesn't wake up. 

Ryan climbs the stairs, holding Michael closer so he won't drop and break or something, and he tries to convince himself that that's the only reason. He can feel Michael's chest steadily rising and falling. Ryan blushes and walks over to his room, kicking the door closed behind him.

Depositing Michael as gently as he can on the bed, Ryan pulls the sheets around him and just takes a moment to study Michael. He looks peaceful, serene, almost, eyelashes casting long shadows over his cheekbones and his lips slightly parted. There's no trace of the screaming, snippy, irritatingly intelligent merman-turned-human. 

Ryan feels this weird warmth gather in his left lung, and even though it's not very strong, Ryan's still aware of it. And he can just tell that it's not going to go away easily. 

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and Ryan's suddenly aware of a strange sound coming from the direction of the ocean. Going over to his window, Ryan looks out and his eyes widen. If he looks really hard, he can see something, or someone, moving at the edge of the dark surf. Water splashes like a fish jumping where the sea meets the shore, but Ryan knows that whatever it is is definitely not a fish. He presses his ear experimentally to the glass, and Ryan can just hear a soft, continuous noise that sounds almost like a wail. 

Shuddering slightly, Ryan moves away and sits at the edge of the bed, just looking out his window at the way the stars reflect off of the surf. He wonders if Michael can see the stars from where he used to live. 

"Do you miss it?" He whispers, even though he knows he isn't heard. The sound dies down a little, and Ryan glances back at Michael, who looks like he's in pain, twisting the sheets up in his fist. The warmth flares up as Michael relaxes, shifting and pulling the pillow closer. 

"I'm sorry." Ryan says, but he doesn't really know why he's apologizing in the first place. He sighs, and slides off the side of the bed and onto his sleeping bag. He falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, not even knowing he was that tired.

 

 

 

School slogs by, and the glow of Miguel the foreigner fades. Ryan's glad for the lessened attention, because his grades have suffered slightly from dealing with Michael, his brothers, and the massive amounts of homework that are legendary in junior year. Not to mention his poor social life. Parties? Nah, gotta go pick up Miguel. And my brothers, for that matter. Football games? Nope, Miguel wants a tour of Miami. Movie? Since it's not in Spanish, Miguel can't go, so I can't either. 

It kind of sucks, but Ryan doesn't really mind that much. He's popular, but not super-popular. The nice kind, the person who other students get a sense of safety with. 

On Friday, Ryan gets his Pre-Calc test back with a perfect score, his first one so far. When he sees Michael waiting for him outside, something just bubbles up inside him and Ryan charges him with his hand raised for a hi-five, to which Michael promptly screams and shoves him away. Michael seems to have completely forgotten about Friday night, which Ryan is honestly relieved about. "I aced my Pre-Calc, I aced my Pre-Caaaaalc…" Ryan chants, and Michael regards him with mild disgust.

"Which test is this?"

"Section 2A."

"Oh. I scored a one hundred three on that one."

Ryan glares at Michael the entire drive back, and Michael has this innocent smile thing he's trying to pull off, but can't. "How do you do that?"

"Ryan, it really is not that difficult for me. You simply must- "

"Alright, you know what, never mind. I don't get you."

Michael's looking at him funny when they get into the house, and he opens and closes his mouth like he wants to say something. Ryan eyes him, leaning back against the door. "Get it out."

Michael isn't looking at him. "I could help you, if you wish."

"Oh." That's definitely not what Ryan was expecting. "Uh, actually…" He awkwardly scratches the back of his head. "That would be great. I mean, you pretty much have it down, so…yeah. Thank you."

They study together for about an hour, and it's strange, because it's almost like once Michael explains something, it feels like it was that obvious all along. There's a weird clarity about the way Michael studies, mixed with this incredible _capacity_ to just learn stuff, and Ryan shivers as he thinks about what Michael could accomplish if he stayed in the human world. 

His mom comes home to them poring over their English essays, and she's too tired to do anything except heat up pizza, which Ryan's not going to complain about. Michael tries a couple bites and actually says he likes it, but Ryan sees him staring at the smoked salmon and opens a package. Before he knows it, Ryan's yawning along with Michael, and he heads upstairs to shower while Michael helps his mom out with the dishes. 

When he gets out, Michael's sitting cross-legged on his bed with a determined expression on his face. "Ryan. Come here."

Ryan plops down in front of him. "What's up?"

Michael just looks at him for the longest time, and it occurs to Ryan that this is not a "What's up" kind of conversation. "Oh. Um."

Michael rolls his eyes. "After much thought, I have concluded that I cannot return home without telling you this."

"Oh. Um." Ryan twists his mouth around, a habit of his when he's nervous. "Shoot."

Michael sighs, and it's longer and heavier that usual. "Ryan, you don't know how I am supposed to return to my kingdom. But I have grudgingly accepted that I cannot return without your assistance. So, you will have to know."

Ryan swallows, throat suddenly dry, and he remembers Michael saying that when he trusted Ryan, he would tell him how to get home. "Okay."

"There are many conditions that must align if I am to return safely." Michael begins, and Ryan knows this is going to be lengthy. 

"The moon must be at its fullest, to ensure safe tidal movement. As I have been…" Michael looks down at his legs. "Walking for the past few weeks, my swimming will not be as strong as usual. Secondly, no human can enter the ocean alongside me, due to…" Michael bites his lip. "I will explain. But neither you, nor your friend Kyle, can witness my return to my kingdom."

"Why?" Ryan asks dumbly. Michael's naming all these mystical property thingies, and he feels like Jim would be a better escort than him. 

"Because you would be blinded by the power generated from my passing of the boundaries." Michael says, like it's obvious. "Now, the third condition."

Ryan swallows again, and nods. "Yeah."

"There are two realms of the ocean, Ryan. They are the Realm of Light and the Realm of Darkness. My people and I reside in the Realm of Light, while other…undesirable creatures reside in the Realm of Darkness. The least desirable of these creatures are what we call the sea-hounds." Michael shudders slightly, and his eyes seem to darken just at the name.

"The sea-hounds are unlike any other monster of the ocean, Ryan. They cannot be killed. They cannot be seen by mortals. And…" Michael grimaces. "They prey on the merfolk."

Ryan swallows.

"The sea-hounds are, at the full moon, most active during the night. But that is not to say that they are inactive during the daytime."

Ryan feels a chill spread over his skin. "So you're saying…"

Michael looks up at him. "At the full moon, I will be at my weakest. Consequently, this is the only time I can access the boundaries of my kingdom after spending such a long time away. So, the sea-hounds will be drawn to me."  
Michael suddenly reaches forward and grabs his hand. "Ryan, I cannot fight them in this state. I could not fight them even in my true form. I lost my father to an attack, and he was the strongest warrior of all the kingdoms. That is why I need…" He closes his eyes, like this is hard for him to get out. "I need your protection."

Ryan's more than stunned, mostly because of the fact that Michael would even admit this. "How…um, how…"

"The scent of a human will mask mine, even if only for a little while. This will buy me enough time to reenter my kingdom." 

"So that's why you want me to come with you."

"Yes. And, Ryan…" Michael still hasn't let go of his hand. "I, in turn, will protect you. I will not let the sea-hounds hurt you."

"I…" Ryan's head feels a bit hazy. "I'll come with you, then. I can't just, y'know, let you die."

Michael lets out a breath, and his eyes close briefly. "Thank you, Ryan." 

Then Michael's pulling him in and linking his other arm around his neck, and Ryan's just left to feel Michael's warmth wash over him. His awkwardly extracts his arm from between them and he wraps at around Michael's back.

"Thank you." Michael says again. He's trembling slightly, and Ryan realizes then just how terrifying the sea-hounds must be. 

"You don't need to thank me. I'll be there." He says quietly, and Michael lets go of him, pulling away. Michael looks right into his eyes, and that stupid heat in Ryan's chest that's just been a low buzz so far intensifies. 

"No. How do you say…" A small smile appears on Michael's lips. "I owe you one, Ryan Lochte."

Ryan's too shocked to think of an intelligent response, so he blushes and splutters out, "But, I mean, is there a way that you could just, you know…put a spell on them?"

Michael regards him with curiosity. "A spell?"

"I mean…your voice. You know, sing to them or whatever and then just drive them away."

"Ah, you mean my enchantments? They only work on humans, especially young and rather foolish ones such as yourself." 

"Gee, thanks." Ryan mutters. "But…still. How do you, like, just take control of people like that?"

For some reason, Michael's blushing. "I…I am skilled in enchantments."

"Is that, like…"

"Well…" Michael blushes even more. "Most mermaids and mermen have a talent that is unique to them. For example, my sisters are accomplished huntresses. My mother is excellent with the dialects of the various kingdoms. Many are metalworkers, craftsman, or architects. But there are very few who…have a voice." 

Michael shifts, looking uncomfortable. "Usually, the women are the best singers. But I was different. I did not play as roughly as the other young mermen did, and I did not share any of their interests. And when it was discovered that my voice was different, the fact that I am a prince made everything worse. I can fight, and my hunting is decent. But my mother knew, everyone knew, that one day, I would be responsible for keeping the boundaries of the kingdom strong with my voice."

Ryan frowns. "So people made fun of you?"

"No, they…there was just a heavy awareness that I was, simply, _different_. But I did not really mind, because I would do anything to make my mother proud. I…I did very well on my first few missions, and I became arrogant. I reached too high. I tried to capture you, and I failed." Michael looks down, his expression pained to the point of frustration. "I was foolish." He continues, talking more to himself now. "To even dream of possessing…what was I…"

Michael seems to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. Ryan clears his throat to break the silence. "Well, I mean, I don't want to make you feel even worse, but…" He flushes. "You almost had me."

Michael looks up, surprised. "Really?"

Ryan smiles. "I mean, if you hadn't touched my cheek at the last second, then yeah. I would've been gone."

"Sometimes contact can break the trance, that is true. But not that small." Michael sighs. "My voice must be declining."

Something just grabs Ryan's vocal cords and takes control of them, because before he knows it, the words that are stuck in his mind are coming out of his mouth. 

"No, your voice is beautiful."

He blushes immediately, looking away. Michael stares up at him, and his expression is unreadable, and Ryan kind of wants to keel over and die.

Then Michael smiles, and Ryan can breathe again. "Well, thank you."

"Y-yeah."

Michael yawns, rubbing his hands over his face, and he flops back against Ryan's pillow. "And what of you, Ryan? What is your strength?" Michael kicks his legs up toward the ceiling. "What will you do when I am gone?"

Ryan knows it's an innocent question, but something like a very heavy, very cold rock drops in his chest. When Michael is gone. 

It's weird, and a little frightening, to think about. What's going to happen when Michael leaves him and the land, where he's just another normal boy, for his kingdom under the ocean, where he's a prince.

"I…" Ryan sighs. "I really don't know. I'm not excellent at anything, my grades aren't all that special…" He laughs. "I kinda sound like a loser."

"No. You will find what you love, I promise you." Michael says quietly. "Just wait."

"When did you know you wanted to do what you do?"

"Me? I…perhaps when I was fourteen. I had tried to conceal my voice for as long as I could, but my mother would not stand for it. When she finally made me accept it, and accept what it made me…that was when I believed that life would not be as boring as I made it out to be. And then, I met…well, was captured by you, and things got a little turned around, don't you think?"

Ryan smiles, and he's kind of glad Michael's not looking at him. "I think so."

They sit in silence for a minute, then Michael breaks it, sitting up. "Ryan." He says quietly. "You must promise me that you will not drop your studies. You are very intelligent. You just need to apply your inherent aptitude to learn, and use it to your fullest advantage."

In that moment, it hits Ryan that Michael actually _cares_. About what's going to happen to him.

"I will." He says softly.

"Good."

"No, actually, I take that back. I can't make you any promises." Ryan grins as Michael sits up, frowning. "I think I'll just game for a living and sink to couch-potato level."

Michael looks at him suspiciously. "What is a couch potato?"

"Someone who literally does nothing with their life, except for, you know, sit on a couch."

"And you liken that to a tuber?"

"Well…yeah."

Then, Michael throws his head back and laughs, a real laugh that's loud and unrestrained, and that alone is enough to make Ryan smile. Before he can control himself, Ryan snorts, and maybe it's just that the stress of the past few weeks has made him loopy, but maybe it's something else, too.

When Michael's quieted down, he wipes a finger under his eyes. "Ah, excuse me. I find that amusing."

"I can see." Ryan tells him, smirking. "I knew I'd get a laugh out of you one day."

"Well, you have succeeded." Michael replies, smiling. 

They talk for at least another hour, about pretty much everything, and when Ryan checks the clock, it's one in the morning. He's in the middle of telling Michael about football, and trying to get him to understand the concept of carrying a ball down a field in order to score a goal (Michael declares it "pointless and brain-damaging") when he looks up and sees that Michael's eyes are closed, his lips turned up in a slight smile. 

"God, I don't get how you just fall asleep like that." Ryan mutters to himself, adjusting the pillow under Michael's head. He looks over the edge of the bed and sees that his sleeping bag has disappeared somewhere, probably with Devon to his friend's sleepover that night. Brandon also stole the other one for his own sleepover, so there's pretty much nobody else in the house for the long weekend, which is exactly what Ryan needs.

"Sorry." Ryan whispers, pushing Michael over to the other side of the bed and gingerly getting under the covers. Michael's head is still taking up the middle of the pillow, and Ryan just sits there, blushing.

He's reminded of that stupid incident at the fair, which somehow seems so long ago, and that just makes him blush more. And that leads him to that sinking-stone feeling he got when Michael asked him what he would do when he was gone.

And Ryan sees what it is, now. 

It's the realization that he wants Michael to stay.

Ryan looks down at Michael, sleeping, and he gets the sinking-stone feeling again, but it's not as cold this time. Sighing, and feeling just so fucking _confused_ , he pulls the blankets around himself and tries not to touch Michael.

"'Night." He murmurs, and then he's asleep, too.

 

 

 

The moment Michael wakes up the next morning, just seconds after Ryan, Ryan knows there's something wrong.  
Michael looks even paler than usual, to the point of sickness. His skin resembles those paintings made in the old days of people with the plague, or other diseases that always result in death. It's peeling at a small place on his jaw and on the line of his collarbone. 

"Michael, you don't look so great." Ryan says, staring. Compared to the night before, it's like he's an entirely different person. 

"No, I am fine." Michael's voice is hoarse, and he hasn't even really opened his eyes yet. "I am fine."

Ryan studies him as Michael sits up, and when he looks at him, Ryan's breath catches. The usually clear, almost sparkling brown of his irises is dulled, so Michael looks unfocused and exhausted. As Ryan looks closely, he sees with shock that the inner edges of the irises are turning a concrete grey, like the color of the ocean on an overcast day. 

"Michael, I don't think you're fine." Ryan tells him, and Michael frowns, shaking his head.

"Trust me, Ryan. I can walk just fine, see…" 

Ryan holds his breath as Michael swings his legs over the edge of the bed and gets slowly up. He makes it over to Ryan's side, but it's almost halting. "I am fine."

Sighing, Ryan lets it go. Maybe it's just a fluke. "Well, then, let's go downstairs."

The problem is, at the landing, Michael just drops to his knees, and he'd probably have fallen right over if Ryan hadn't caught him and pulled him up. "Okay, you aren't fine." Ryan says under his breath, but Michael doesn't answer, because his hand is cupped over his mouth. Ryan watches closely, basically supporting Michael's weight under his arm, and when Michael pulls his hand away, there's a small spot of blood on his palm. 

"I…" Michael tries, but he coughs, and two more drops land on his hand. 

"Oh my god." Ryan's eyes widen, and he manages to get them over to the downstairs bathroom. He makes Michael sit on the countertop as he finds a thermometer. But he doesn't even make it that far. 

"Ryan-" Michael says, and something in his voice sounds urgent. When Ryan turns around, Michael's bent over the toilet, retching. More blood lands in the bowl's water.

"Oh my god, shit, oh my god- " Ryan whispers, and Michael makes a small noise, grabbing a tissue and wiping over the back of his mouth. Ryan drops to his knees and lays his palm over Michael's forehead. He feels normal, but Michael looks like he's barely alive. 

"Ryan." Michael croaks. He looks like he's in pain. "Water."

"What? Water? Water, okay, water…" Ryan mutters to himself, frantically finding a paper cup in the cabinet and filling it. "Here…"

But Michael pushes it away, shaking his head. "No…water."

Ryan realizes what Michael needs, and he dumps the cup in the trash. "I got you. Okay, I got you, I got you." He gets one arm around Michael's back and manages to hoist him up. "Do you think you can just…sit tight for ten seconds?"

Michael nods, still covering his mouth with one hand.

 

 

 

Five minutes later, Ryan's slamming his back door closed, supporting Michael with one arm and headed in the direction of the ocean.

He lightning-changed Michael into a pair of swim trunks in the bathroom, but even the five minutes it required seem to have taken their toll. Michael's not even coherent, almost passed out, with a small trail of blood leading from the corner of his mouth.

"Shit." Ryan mutters, desperately hoping for the beach to be shut down. He glances hurriedly at the signs at the perimeters and thanks God when it says that the beach is closed for inspection. Since he basically lives on the shore, Ryan can safely assume that this doesn't apply to him. 

Michael makes a choking noise, and Ryan doesn't really care about anything anymore except for the fact that Michael's really fucking sick, so when he reaches the shoreline, he doesn't bother taking his clothes off, just plunges in up to his waist. "Hold on, Michael, we're here, we're here…" Michael's getting limper and limper, and Ryan curses, letting him slip in up to his shoulders. "Don't you dare fucking die on me."

For the first few seconds, Michael's head just lolls on his neck, and Ryan's about to have a panic attack.

But then Michael's eyes fly open and he coughs violently, splashing the water around him. Ryan lets out a sigh of relief.

"Are you better?"

Michael nods, breathing hard, and Ryan can already see the ocean starting to have an effect. His eyes have cleared, seeming to refocus and brighten. 

"Much." 

Then it looks like Michael has just realized that they're in the ocean, and he laughs out loud, trailing his hands through the water. "Ah, it is good to be back!" Michael makes a motion like he's hugging the water, but he ends up dipping his face in and he comes back up, spluttering. 

After Ryan's made sure Michael's able to support himself, he runs inside to change into a pair of swim trunks, because it's been a long time since he got to really enjoy the beach. It's sort of wavy at some parts today, and he grabs his surfboard from the corner of his closet, which he hasn't touched in over six months. Ryan checks the clock in his room and is startled to see how late they woke up, almost at noon. 

When he emerges onto his porch, board under his arm, Michael's kneeling on a rock about twenty feet off from the shore, stupidly reminding Ryan of _The Little Mermaid_. He smiles to himself, half-expecting Michael to break out into song and the waves to crash dramatically around him. 

Michael appears to be talking to something in the water, and when Ryan squints, walking out onto the shore, he sees that there's a shark's dorsal fin sticking out above the water right in front of the rock. 

"Michael!" Ryan shouts, rushing up to the water's edge, but Michael ignores him. He smiles and caresses the shark's fin. It sinks under the ocean, and Michael slides off the rock, beckoning Ryan over. Ryan's not about to go frolicking in the waves when a fucking shark has been less than thirty feet away from him. He shakes his head, nervously shifting from side to side.

Michael rolls his eyes and dips under the water, dolphin-kicking up to the shoreline. He's incredibly fast, and if Michael says he's at his weakest, Ryan can't even imagine his fastest speed. "Come, Ryan. She will not hurt you."

"I…don't know about that." Ryan mutters. But he gets in anyway, kneeling on top of his floating board just in case. "What did you say to her?"

"Oh." Michael looks curiously at the surfboard. "To tell my mother that I am safe. What is that?"

"Uh, my surfboard."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "What do you do with it?"

"Well, you try to…we call it riding waves. Here, watch."

Ryan paddles over to the wavy side of the beach, waiting for an easy-ish one, since he hasn't been in a while. When he spots one, it all comes back naturally, and before he knows it, he's pushing up off his board and riding the swell easily.

When he drifts off to the side and looks back at Michael, Michael's jaw is hanging open. "How…how…"

Ryan grins, strangely happy that Michael's impressed. "It's not that hard, if you've been doing it for a while. You wanna try?"

This is possibly the worst idea Ryan's ever proposed in his entire life, and he's come up with some really awful ones, but Michael looks so awestruck that Ryan couldn't really turn him down even if he tried. "Yes."

It ends with Michael clinging, scared shitless, to a rock and refusing to move for ten minutes, while Ryan tries to convince him that the surfboard isn't going to eat him.

"Maybe that wasn't the best idea." Ryan calls, coming off a wave, and Michael just gives him a black look.

"Perhaps not."

Eventually, Michael floats off his rock and toward the shoreline, where he just sits and suns himself for a while. Ryan paddles over and Michael eyes his surfboard suspiciously, then swims to him and rests his forearms on it.  
"I still do not trust this."

Ryan laughs, and Michael breaks into a smile when their eyes meet. 

It's a little disconcerting to feel the rush through his chest that occurs when he sees Michael's face, almost like the rush he felt when he held baby Brandon for the first time, or when his mom finally broke her silence after his father left and just hugged him, but it's…stronger, somehow. 

He looks away and starts messing with the side of his board just so he doesn't have to see Michael, blushing. When he glances up, Michael's swum away and is splashing around by the rock. _Well, at least he's enjoying himself,_ Ryan thinks, paddling back toward shore.

But then he hears Michael's scream. "RYAN!"

Ryan jumps, turning quickly, but Michael's gone, with only a few ripples around the rock.

"Michael?!" Ryan shouts, pushing his board away onto the sand and rushing back toward the rock. A feeling of dread is growing steadily in his gut.

Then Michael breaks the surface, gasping, but his motions are flailing and desperate, and it looks almost like he's…trying to get away from something. Something that's trying to pull him back under.

"Shit." Ryan says, swimming as fast as he can, but it's like the tide is working against him. "MICHAEL! HOLD ON!"

"RYAN!" Michael screams again, and then he's yanked back under the water, but he comes back up again a second later and grabs onto the rock, but something is definitely trying to tug him back in, and that's when Ryan sees the trail of red in the water.

"HOLD ON!" He yells again, and by some miracle, an undertow carries him straight to Michael and he grabs him. But Ryan swears he feels something brush against his leg, something very heavy and very big, that definitely isn't a fish or a shark. 

"Ryan, hurry, hurry, they are here- " Michael gasps into his ear, clinging to him, and Ryan pushes off the rock, kicking as hard as he can toward the shore.

"Don't worry, I got you, I got you- " He starts, but then there's this incredible _pull_ from the opposite direction, and Michael shrieks, grip tightening on Ryan. 

"Ryan, don't let them get me, RYAN!"

"Oh shit, SHIT SHIT!" Ryan yells. But somehow, the tugging stops and whatever it was seems to retreat, and he pulls Michael, gasping and spitting water, onto the sand. Michael has tears spilling down his face and he looks absolutely terrified. He won't let go of Ryan.

"Michael, what the hell was that, what happened to you, what the hell was that-" Ryan breathes, heart pounding. Then he remembers the red-colored water. 

Ryan looks down and sees blood gushing from what looks like a massive bite mark on Michael's leg. 

"Oh my god." He mutters, grabbing for his towel. "Michael, shit, what is that."

Michael just holds on to him and cries, shoulders convulsing up and down, so Ryan reaches down and tries to wrap the wound as gently as he can. Michael makes a strangled noise that just about shatters Ryan's chest when he ties it.

"Okay, we're done, we're done." Ryan whispers, running his hand over the makeshift bandage. Michael whimpers. "We might have to get you to the hospital."

Michael looks up at him, eyes red. "No, please, do not. I will fix it."

Ryan can only nod along with him, breathing hard. His heart still hasn't calmed down. "Okay. Okay."

He leans in and wraps his arms around Michael, a little desperate for some contact other than whatever was in the water. "We have to get you back to the house." Michael nods against his shoulder.

They somehow make it up the beach and through the back door, and Ryan manages to get Michael up on the countertop. "I gotta look at your leg."

Michael glances at him, biting his lip. "You cannot touch it."

Ryan's heart is still pounding. He brandishes a bottle of sanitizing alcohol, a massive wad of gauze and tape, and at least three disinfectant creams from his mom's extensive collection. "I'm going to have to, because you're going to die if I don't fix this up."

"Fine. But you are wrong."

Ryan raides an eyebrow. "We'll see about that."

He unwraps the towel carefully, wincing every time it drags over Michael's skin. The odd thing is, Michael doesn't even seem to react.

Ryan pulls it away and sees that Michael's leg is covered in blood, but the gash marks are…gone.

"Hold the fuck up." He mutters, grabbing the gauze and patting away the blood. Underneath, Michael's calf is completely smooth.

Ryan gapes up at Michael. "You can…you…"

"I healed it myself." Michael says matter-of-factly, and this is just too much for Ryan.

"Oh my god. I'm going insane, I swear, there was blood and guts all over your leg and there was a bite, I'm going fucking insane- " 

"Ryan. Calm down."

"No, I swear, my head is going to, like, explode- " Ryan swears he's going to start fucking hyperventilating, but then he feels Michael's hands settle on his shoulders and he looks up, surprised.

"Ryan. You must calm down." Michael says quietly. "And that hurts. Just because I can heal myself does not mean I cannot feel pain." He glances downward, and it occurs to Ryan that he's been just standing there, squeezing Michael's leg. He lets go, muttering a "sorry" and flushing. But Michael doesn't take his hands off Ryan's shoulders. 

Some silence passes, and Ryan's about to ask, but Michael beats him to it. "You are probably wondering why my father died if I can heal myself, no?"

"Uh. Yeah." 

Ryan realizes, embarrassed, that Michael doesn't have a father, either. Of course, Michael doesn't know this about him, but at least Ryan's dad is still alive. 

"The…the hound…she separated his soul from his body, Ryan." Michael says quietly, his right hand squeezing Ryan's shoulder unconsciously. "Even if he tried, he could not have…" Michael makes a small sound and wipes the back of his hand over his eye. Ryan's heart starts to pound again, but not in fear. It's something else. "I am sorry, I-"

"Hey. Look, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." Michael just shakes his head and looks down. Ryan tries to see his face, and when Michael looks up at him, his eyes are watery.

"Ryan, I have to go home." Michael says. It looks like he's in pain. "I have to go home, but I am so scared, but the moon will be in its place very soon, I just…"

Ryan takes a deep breath, preparing himself. "Hey, c'mere, Michael. C'mere."

Michael doesn't even resist when Ryan pulls him forward, just lets Ryan wrap his arms around him. "Look, I know those horrible things are out there. But I'm going to get you home in one piece." Ryan lets his eyes close, since Michael can't see his face. Michael's surprisingly warm, and it calms him down. "You don't have to be scared anymore."

Michael makes a small noise and one arm hooks around Ryan's neck, shifting him closer. "I am asking you to risk your life for mine. Of course I am scared."

"Don't be. I'm going to keep you safe, okay?"

Something about saying those words makes that thing in Ryan's chest flare up, and he has to bite back a gasp. What Michael says back to him is drowned out by a sudden rushing in his ears, like water, even though he knows it really isn't there.

And Ryan realizes what that feeling in his chest is, that persistent ache that started sometime a couple weeks ago and hasn't fully subsided yet. 

He can't even think the word for it in his brain, because it carries a sense of finality that he just isn't able handle in the moment, so he shoves it aside with all the strength he can muster and focuses on breathing and staying standing.

His senses kick back in and he stiffens a little in Michael's arms, but Michael doesn't seem to notice. "You okay?" 

Michael's been getting more and more emotional as his return draws closer. "Maybe."

"Still thinking about Dad stuff?"

"This is highly embarrassing." Michael murmurs. Ryan can feel his eyelashes flutter against his cheek, and the sensation is enough to make the ache in his chest come back again. "It has been three years, I should have some control over this." 

"Well…" Ryan pulls back, but keeps his eyes on Michael's legs, because he just can't look in his face. "I, um. I don't have a dad, either. It's been six years since he left, and I still get sad when I think about him. So…"

Michael's eyes widen a fraction of an inch. "Your father is gone? How?"

Ryan clears his throat, glancing up at Michael. "Uh…well, he cheated on my mom."

"Cheated on? Like a game?"

"I, uh. No. He. He didn't really love my mom anymore, I guess, so he started loving someone else. And I caught them together and told my mom, and he just left."

There's silence, and when Ryan looks up, something in Michaels face has changed. "I am so sorry, Ryan."

Ryan feels his heart start to speed up again. "Nah, no, don't be. That was a long time ago, and I think we've all gotten over it by now."

"I often wondered where your father was, but this…" Michael looks almost disgusted. "I do not see how anyone could do that and live with themselves."

"What, leave their families?"

"That, and stop loving someone." Michael replies, still looking down at him. "If you love someone, it must be permanent. You cannot have any doubts, or any suspicion that you will stop in the future."

Ryan stares up at Michael, and for some reason, it's not even intimidating at all to look right into his eyes. "You're right."

Michael looks a little shocked to hear what just came out of his mouth, but he recovers, clearing his throat and squeezing Ryan's shoulders, almost like he's not aware that he's doing it. "At least, that is what I think. Now, help me get down."

"Okay." Ryan says, feeling a smile spread over his face. Michael looks at him suspiciously for a moment, then he slides his arms further around Ryan's neck and drops lightly to the ground. When the weight of Michael's arms leaves him, Ryan feels like it's something more, like a bigger weight than he realized has been lifted from his shoulders.

 

 

 

That night, Ryan slogs back into the house after picking up Brandon and Devon at around midnight, and when he steps into his room, he sees Michael sitting on his bed again. He's come to expect that whenever Michael sits on his bed and stares intently at him as he crosses the room, something either every good or very bad is going to happen. 

But Michael doesn't even look up, studying something closely in his lap. "Whatcha looking' at?" Ryan asks, sitting down next to him and seeing his family's old photo album. "Oh."

Michael glances over at him. "Is it alright?"

Ryan nods, shrugging. "Fine with me."

Michael gives him the smallest smile, then goes back to flipping through the pages. He passes one with Ryan at eight years old, in one of those inflatable sumo wrestler Halloween costumes, and he lets out a soft laugh that makes Ryan's heart do this jump-rattle-flip combo that just about has him clutching his chest. 

Ryan risks closing his eyes, trying not to think about what he realized earlier in the day (which he still hasn't found in himself to accept,) but that just makes him more acutely aware of Michael's body pressed against his side. Dammit.

"Is this your father?" Michael asks suddenly, and Ryan looks down at the page to see a photograph of him standing with his father, jokingly flexing for the camera. He looks around ten, scrawny and short, so it must have been taken before his dad left. 

"Yeah, that's him." Ryan says, and is furious to hear his voice croak a little at the end. 

Michael looks at the photo for a long time. "You greatly resemble him."

Ryan chuckles. "Yeah, everyone always says that. I don't know if that's a good thing, though."

"No, he is very handsome." Michael says quietly. Ryan has to stop thinking about everything else and just focus on getting oxygen in his lungs and fight that untitled thing in his chest, because if he heard right, Michael just indirectly called him handsome. 

"What…what did your dad look like?" He manages, and Michael laughs softly.

"Oh. It is hard to describe him." His eyes seem to have changed. "Tall. Fit." Michael looks over at Ryan and smirks. "Much handsomer than any human I have ever laid eyes on."

"Hey." Ryan says, grinning. "Your eyes clearly have problems, then, 'cause this hunk of meat here is the finest in the land." He jerks his thumb toward himself, and Michael laughs.

 _Oh god, what am I doing,_ Ryan thinks to himself. He closes his eyes for a second, appalled at his idiocy.  
Because if his little epiphany shit was correct, which Ryan is three hundred percent hoping it wasn't but is three hundred percent sure it is, then he shouldn't be talking like this. Like he's flirting. It's stupid, because even if he feels the way he thinks he does (but is three hundred percent hoping it's not what he thinks) there's no way Michael would feel the same. 

He's just so fucking confused.

"I mean, of course, your dad was probably really good-looking, though." He says, flushing. "Like you."

 _SHIT,_ Ryan screams internally. He can feel Michael's gaze boring into him from the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me?" Michael asks, but his tone doesn't sound the least bit offended. More…playful.

"Uh…" Ryan bites his lip, looking down at his hands. "I…" He blushes. "I guess, you know. You're really attractive. I guess. You know." 

"Only attractive?" Michael says, and Ryan steals a glance in his direction to see him smiling. 

"Uh. Hot, you could say. Pretty."

"Only pretty?" Michael looks up through his eyelashes, making Ryan blush even harder.

"Fine. You're gorgeous." Ryan murmurs, feeling like he's about to die, and Michael laughs.

" _That_ is what I wanted to hear." He turns to Ryan suddenly, and Ryan finds it in himself to look into his eyes for as long as he can bear. "If you want to see my father, I can show you." He says, quieting down.

Ryan blinks. "Uh, how?"

"Give me your hand." Michael tells him, but when Ryan tentatively holds it out, he frowns. "Oh. I had forgotten."

"What?"

"You humans…" Michael sighs. "You are not supposed to see this. But, for you, I suppose an exception can be made."

"Oh. Uh. Okay, then."

Michael folds both his hands over Ryan's, and Ryan can't help but notice that they're pleasantly warm and soft, while his are probably sweaty and gross. Michael closes his eyes, eyelids shifting, and Ryan takes it as a cue to shut his own.

Then, it's like everything in the world is rushing at him at once, like he's some sort of black hole and is being sucked into himself.

Ryan wants to yell bloody murder, because he can't open his eyes all of a sudden, and the darkness is somehow colorful darkness, and he feels like he's on a rollercoaster that has suddenly dropped off the edge of a cliff, and he's about to scream, and then there's silence. 

Michael makes a small noise, so at least Ryan knows he's still alive. He still can't open his eyes though, which could turn into a real problem later on. 

Suddenly, there's something like a flare at the edge of his vision, and Ryan realizes that he _can_ see, in a weird way. It's like the insides of his eyelids have become a TV screen. It's just darkness, though, with a dull light in the center. 

Then, the light widens its arc, and it looks like an eye opening. There's the sound of a baby crying that filters into his ears, and even though he knows it's not real, Ryan shivers, because it doesn't sound like a normal baby. More like a shrieking adult. 

The light bursts into a thousand little glowing ones at once, making Ryan tense, and they focus into a shining ceiling, like the inside of a shell. The baby's crying gets louder, more real and human now, and the image shifts. Ryan finds himself staring straight into the face of a man.

He's almost middle-aged, very handsome, his hair close-cropped and iron grey, but the thing that strikes Ryan first are his eyes. Because they look exactly like Michael's. 

It occurs to Ryan that he must be somehow looking at one of Michael's memories, through Michael's eyes. And that the baby crying must be Michael himself. 

The crying persists, and the man makes a soothing noise, breaking into a smile that makes him look like Michael in thirty years. His soft brown eyes light up and he kisses baby-memory-Michael's forehead, which just makes him cry harder. He must be Michael's father.

The man speaks in a series of inhuman words and hisses and clicks to someone out of the memory's frame, and Ryan finds the screen shifted to a older, yet still beautiful woman lying exhausted in the shell of a giant clam. Two little girls stand next to her, faces lit up and excited-looking. They must be Michael's mother and sister.

Michael's crying starts to fade, along with the memory, and another screen, more focused this time, blooms into Ryan's vision. Michael's father stands in front of him, speaking in their own language. They're floating in the middle of the ocean, and Ryan watches the man's tail, which is an opalescent white, beat back and forth with the current. Michael says something back to him, and Ryan finds himself wondering how they make those sounds with their mouths. His father smiles and his arm disappears off the frame to clap him on the shoulder. Ryan swears he feels a pat on his own.

Then, the frame shifts as Michael turns, and Ryan lets out a gasp.

There in front of them is a massive coral reef, completely submerged, so huge it must be the size of three football fields. And built on it is an underwater kingdom.

It must be Marina, Michael's home. The buildings look Greek, white and shining, like light is emanating from the kingdom. Ryan realizes that they're made entirely of pearl. What seems like thousands of mermaids and mermen are swimming throughout the main city, which is at the highest point on the reef next to a huge coral that must be a thousand years old. There's a giant building that seems to glow the most out of all of them, and Ryan knows that that's the palace. 

Memory-Michael doesn't give him much time to take it all in, diving straight down and into the city. Ryan tries to absorb as much as he can as they pass through the streets, weaving in and out of the crowds of merfolk. Ryan sees street vendors shouting in that same language, beautiful mermaids trailing scarves out of windows that ripple in the water, a group of young mermen playing some kind of lacrosse-under-the-water game, almost like the normal world was tipped underwater and everyone grew tails. Michael doesn't even give anything a second glance, though, as he heads toward the palace. 

When they get to the entrance, Michael waves the guards away. They're carrying what look like huge scythes made of some weird-looking metal, and Ryan feels a shudder course through his spine. Michael swims by and pushes open two huge metal doors.

Ryan's pretty sure his mouth falls open. 

They open into a huge, arena-sized throne room, with three gigantic abalone shells that glint and shimmer at the very back. The ceiling is entirely pearl, with gold trimmings and sculptures lining the edges and walls. At the very top of the ceiling is a giant pearl, the size of Ryan's school bus. It pulses with a soft light, and the ebbs it gives off seem to be energizing. 

Then, before Ryan can really absorb anything, the image changes again. 

The first thing Ryan registers is all the noise and shouting, then what's on the screen of his vision sinks in. 

There's at least fifty mermen, all in metal armor, frenzied in what must be a battle. Ryan looks closer and sees that they're all fighting three undefinable dark shapes that are too far away to really see. But it looks like they're losing the fight. 

Michael dives down, reminding Ryan of a peregrine falcon, and he feels dizzy as Michael ducks and shoots through the water, closing on the dark shape. Now, it's too close for him to make out, but he sees a lot of black scales, bloodied and ragged. In the bottom of his vision he sees a sword lash out, lightning fast. The shape makes a bellowing noise that rattles Ryan's ears and sends Michael somersaulting backward, and his vision goes black for a minute. 

There's a shout from his right, and Michael turns to see his father. His father looks like one of those old paintings of Poseidon, riding what looks like a horse with the tail of a fish, but with much pointier teeth. His father slashes at the dark shape with a huge scythe, and the shape howls, then disintegrates as if it were never there, but another moves in to take its place. Michael gasps amid all the chaos and rushes to his father, saying something in his own rapid-fire language that translates in Ryan's mind, he doesn't know how or why.

"Father! You must go!" Michael cries, and his father's face looks grim. His father's horse whinnies and nuzzles into Michael's palm, which is streaked with blood. Michael floats downward, stroking the horse's snout and trying to soothe it. "Shhh, Briarus." His vision shifts up to Michael's father. "Father, this is unsafe. You have been weakened, and if Mortis shows, I…" Michael's voice seems to stop up in his throat. "I cannot bear to think of…"

"My son, this is the only way. Mortis and I have faced each other many times before, and I have defeated her every time." His father says, but he doesn't even look sure of himself.

"You have not been so weak ever before in your life, father, and Mortis is at her strongest! You cannot go!" Michael sounds like he's about to either cry or punch his father. "I will not allow it!" Michael's hand comes up to wipe something off his face. "I will go. I will fight her."

His father smiles then, oddly calm amidst the chaos of war still raging around them. "Michael. Then, who would rule over Marina when your beloved mother passes on? You must let me fight for my kingdom. You must trust me."

"No! I will not stand and watch you die!" Michael's breath shudders in and out of him, and he reaches up, squeezing his father's hand. "You cannot go!" 

"I must, my son." His father's smile shines with pure adoration, and he squeezes Michael's hand. Ryan's chest pangs with something that feels like a mixture of sadness and…jealousy.

"My beautiful son. You will be a king of legend."

Michael is full-on crying, now, and he holds his father's hand in a death grip. "Please, there must be another way. You cannot leave us. Please, father…" But he sounds like he's losing hope, and his father's face hardens.

"I must, my son. Now let me finally face what has plagued this kingdom for centuries." His father closes his eyes. "I feel her approach." He turns to a palace guard rushing past. "Keto, take my son back to the kingdom. Keep his mother and sisters safe." Then he digs his heels into the horse's sides and they shoot off, away from Michael. Ryan notices a giant, dark shape approaching from the deeper ocean, past where the mermen are fighting the smaller forms.

"No! NO! FATHER!" Michael screams, starting to swim after him, but the guard's strong arm closes around his chest and pulls him back. "FATHER! LET ME GO!" He claws at the guard's arm, but to no avail, and Michael's scream sounds like true suffering. Ryan feels something sting at the backs of his eyes that he's sure isn't part of the memory.

Then, the shape bursts out from the deep, and Ryan glimpses what must be a sea-hound as he feels his blood freeze over in his veins. 

The thing is the size of a cargo steamer, with rippling black scales instead of fur and teeth that look like they could tear a hole in the Empire State building. They're stained with blood and remnants of prey. The sea-hound's eyes are a deep, enraged red, glowing brighter when it catches sight of Michael's father riding toward it. 

"Mortis." Michael breathes, then his father clashes with the sea-hound in a burst of light and darkness, the ringing of the scythe overwhelming Ryan's ears. Michael's full-on sobbing, now, still straining against the guard's arm, and the guard is shaking behind him with what must be grief. 

The last thing Ryan sees is a blinding flash and a jagged streak of black and the sound of Michael's scream, not of pain this time, but of terror, and then his eyes fly open. 

"Oh my god." Is the first thing he says. Michael looks a little tired, and his face is grim. 

"Yes." 

"That- that- " Ryan stutters. Michael nods. 

"Yes."

Ryan allows himself to collect his brain cells for a few moments, then he looks up at Michael. "Michael, I'm so sorry." Michael just shrugs. "I can't even…I can't even imagine myself, like, going through that and coming out as…" He flushes slightly. "Uh, as strong as you are." 

Michael smiles, and it's sad. "Ryan, I am not strong. I am just good at hiding things."

Ryan's silent for a while, because he doesn't really know what else to say. He's suddenly aware that Michael's hands are still clasped around his, and they're trembling.

"So, that is Mortis." Michael says, glancing into the darkness outside the house. "It was she who attacked me."

A shiver travels down Ryan's lower back. "But…I mean…the bite on your leg was so much smaller."

"Over the years, her power has waned, and she has shrunken. But she is still the most dangerous." Michael isn't looking at him. 

Ryan remembers the last thing he saw in Michael's memory. "What, uh…what was that black slash at the end?"

Michael grimaces. "That was a sea-hound's claw. It struck my neck right here." He touches at a spot right below his Adam's apple.

"And you healed it." Ryan says, but when Michael lifts his hand away, there's a long, brown mark. "Whoa. Wait."

"I have been hiding it from you." Michael tells him, shrugging. "This one was very hard to heal."

Ryan has the nerve to feel a little offended. "Why did you hide it?"

"Because you would have asked." Michael says simply, and he clasps Ryan's hand tighter. Ryan's not sure he's aware of it. 

Ryan's suddenly filled with a strange want that he can't even begin to justify. "Can I…" He motions to Michael's neck. Michael looks surprised, but leans slightly forward.

Ryan lifts his other hand and runs his finger over the mark, and Michael makes a small sound. Ryan glances at his face and sees that his eyes have closed. 

"Michael." He says quietly. "You _are_ strong. You have to be to survive something like this."

Michael sighs, eyes still closed. 

Ryan is taken completely by surprise when he brings one hand up to his neck and tangles his fingers with Ryan's, pulling his hand down to rest on his leg. 

"I am glad that I have met you, Ryan."

This warm, kind of incredible feeling pumps through Ryan's veins, and he closes his eyes, too, just allowing himself to feel all the places where his body touches with Michael's. Michael's skin, most of it bare, is warm and relaxing, in a way.

It relaxes Ryan enough so that he can take the feeling running through him and connect to a feeling with an actual name, that he finally lets himself say in his head, that he finally lets wrap around him and fill him and quietly slip into this place at the top of his lungs. 

When he feels that he's recovered, Ryan lets his hand shift on Michael's knee. "You are?"

Michael nods, and his eyes are still closed. "I am."

There's more silence, then Michael says, "I am glad, because you have shown me that to trust is equivalent as to love, or to cherish. And I do trust you, Ryan. I am very grateful for that."

Ryan lets out a breath that he hopes Michael can't hear, and he lets another want take over him. 

He wants to lean forward and press their lips together, see if he can taste the ocean in Michael's mouth, see if he can trust Michael not to pull away. 

But he doesn't, because if there's anything Ryan can't afford to destroy, it's their trust in each other. 

Michael seems to be coming back to earth, in a sense, and he places Ryan's hands on the bed between them. "Come, we must sleep. It is past the middle of this night."

Ryan smiles to himself. "Okay."

Because he's a gentleman, he goes and finds his crumpled sleeping bag and lays it out at the edge of the bed, climbing in once he's changed into his pajamas. Michael comes out of his bathroom wearing his old shirt and flannel pants, because it's starting to get a little colder. 

"Good night, Ryan." Michael says sleepily.

"'Night, Michael." Ryan replies, closing his eyes.

 

 

 

Ryan wakes groggily at noon the next day to the shower running, and Michael's (or, his) clothes are scattered all over the floor, so he avoids his bathroom. He slumps out of bed and heads downstairs, where he can smell something burning. Devon and Brandon are standing in front of the toaster oven, where three sad-looking charcoal slabs are smoldering.

After he makes them a proper lunch, Michael comes downstairs, yawning and rubbing at his eyes, and Brandon claps his hands. "Michael!"

"Hello, Brandon." Michael says, laughing as Brandon hugs onto his legs. He's only wearing Ryan's pants, and Ryan looks away, suddenly very interested in Devon's broccoli. "Did you make all of this food?" 

"Yeah!" Brandon proclaims happily, and Ryan coughs from the kitchen counter. "Oh. Maybe not."

Michael laughs softly, and when Brandon looks up at him, eyes big and blue in the way that always manages to win Ryan over, he reaches down and lifts him up, grunting with the effort. "To Ryan!" Brandon says, pointing towards him, and Ryan feigns shock. 

"Who, me?" 

Brandon smirks and Michael's smile is back on his face as he brings Brandon over to Ryan, then twirls him away at the last minute. "Oh, no, the…" He looks hurriedly at Devon for help, and Devon whispers "fighter jet." "Fighter jet has veered off its course!"

Brandon laughs and steers the "airplane" back towards Ryan, who holds his arms out. "Go!"

Michael bumps Ryan with his hip so he's backed up against the counter, and Brandon makes crashing noises while Ryan pretends to die a painful death. 

Brandon climbs onto Ryan's shoulders from Michael's arms, and Michael's left just awkwardly standing really close to Ryan. Ryan looks up at Brandon suspiciously, wondering if he planned it. Devon smirking down at his mac and cheese doesn't help prove his innocence. 

"Ah, I think I shall do some of the cooking for a change." Michael declares, heading toward the refrigerator. He opens it and immediately steps back. "The cold! Foe, I shall end you- "

After preventing Michael from trying to put some weird mermaid curse on their fridge, Ryan crosses his arms and leans against the door as Michael roots through the food. "So, what exactly are you going to make?"

"Easy. It is called- " Michael says something in his own language that sounds like a bunch of rats being flayed alive. Ryan grimaces.

"Uh, that didn't help. At all."

Michael rolls his eyes. "Well, I think in your world, I would call it…pizza."

Ryan's jaw drops. "Wait, you mer-people have pizza?"

"Well, its proper name is-" Michael does the whole rats-flayed-alive thing again, "But they are similar. I will just have to find substitutes for the ingredients."

Ryan shrugs, watching as Michael pulls out cheese and tomato sauce. "Okay. Just don't, y'know, break the kitchen."

Michael makes a dismissive noise. "Please."

Ryan and his brothers watch in awe as Michael preps and chops and kneads and pretty much functions like a mom, because in twenty minutes flat, he has an unbaked pizza sitting on the counter. "Now, we must cook it." Michael says, sliding it into the oven he's had the thought to preheat. 

Eventually, the bell dings and Michael pulls out the rack to reveal a perfect, Domino's-advertisement-level pizza, then cuts it into equally perfect slices. Devon and Brandon ooh and aah and rush over to steal two slices. Noises of appreciation chorus from the counter.

"So good…" Devon lets out a belch, patting his stomach. Michael cringes, but maintains a polite smile. "Man, Michael, you're a better cook than Ryan."

"Whoa, hey. That crossed a line." Ryan says, snapping his fingers and shifting his weight onto one hip. Michael just looks expectantly at him until he cracks. "Alright, lemme try. I'll be the judge of this."

Ryan has to admit to himself that it's good. Really good. Better than any pizza he's ever tried to make. "Well…" He sniffs, glaring at Michael. "It's edible."

Michael just grins and accepts Devon's hi-five. "Your brother approves of my-" Rats being flayed alive noise. 

"Hey, I said it was _edible._ I don't approve of it." Ryan grins, reaching for another slice. 

The four of them finish off the pizza, and when they're done, Brandon lets out a burp that echoes off the walls and announces that he and Devon have planned an exploring expedition. He shows them a detailed map of their backyard and the beach and a route leading to a red X. Ryan sends them out the door with a bag of Cheetos and firecrackers in case they get lost and need to send out a distress signal. Brandon is carrying a mysterious backpack that looks like it weighs about fifty pounds. He and Michael clean up the kitchen in the meantime, Ryan hoping they're not plotting to set off some mentos-and-coke bomb thing they've invented.

"Hey, I was wondering." Ryan says as he scrubs down the cutting board. "What exactly is your language called?"

"Oh. It is- " Michael makes a more pleasant noise, like a bird singing mixed with a wave breaking. "But as I grew up, my parents insisted I learn English."

"Why?"

"To prepare for the exact situation I am in now." Michael says, eyeing him. "And to deal with humans with such low intelligence as yours."

Ryan snorts, punching Michael's arm lightly. Michael just smiles. "You know, you could attempt to speak some of my language, if you want."

"Ah." Ryan actually wouldn't mind learning some of it. Then again, languages have never really been his strongest point. "Well, you can try and teach me. But I'm not guaranteeing anything."

Michael finishes washing the last of the plates, and sets it on the drying rack. "How about we start with basic phrases, then see how we are doing from there."

Michael sits on the counter and swings his legs back and forth, looking down at them like he's suddenly just realized they exist. "Let us start with the appropriate greeting." He extends his hand to Ryan. "First, I greet you, as you are of lower rank." Ryan rolls his eyes. Michael continues in his own language in what sounds out as, "Eka neri in ma honorica esa," with a bunch of weird accents and dips that make Ryan's ears protest. "That means, hello, and welcome, as best translated in your language." Ryan nods, grinning. "Then, to introduce myself, I say…Ma slatya eso Michael. Es teya? Which means 'my name is Michael. And you are…"

"Uh." Ryan says, staring at Michael's hand. "So, do, I uh, shake it?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "No. You kiss it." At Ryan's blank look, he adds, "It is a custom of my people if you are meeting someone for the first time. You would be viewed as very rude if you did not do so."

Ryan shakes his head, but he takes Michael's hand and kisses back of it, hoping his lips don't feel gross. His heart jumps in protest, and Ryan straightens. "So, now I introduce myself?" Michael nods. "Okay. Ma…slatya?"

Michael shakes his head. "More accent on the t. Slah. Teeeee. Yah."

"Ma slateeya eso…"

"No!" Michael sighs. "Your name is of undetermined gender, so you must use esi. Esa is feminine. Eso is masculine."

"Uh…Ma slatya esi Ryan. Es…teya?" Ryan tries, grimacing. 

"Wrong, wrong, wrong." Michael says. "I have already introduced myself, so you would not say es teya. You would say- repeat after me- 'Yanna hestya eso thrystven.' I am pleased to meet you." 

"Yanna hestya eso thrystven." It sounds exactly like what Michael said, but Michael shakes his head, smiling. He looks ready to crack up.

"No, no, Ryan. You have just called me a dirty whore." Michael laughs at Ryan's horrified expression. "You must separate yan and na with a…an aposto…"

"Apostrophe." Ryan offers, and Michael nods. He tries again, and Michael seems satisfied with the results. 

"Now, I kiss your hand, and we would begin a civilized conversation." Before Ryan knows it, Michael has reached down and taken his hand. He presses his lips to it, soft and not necessarily meaningful of anything, but Ryan feels like Michael's mouth has made a deep imprint on the back of his hand. "And that completes the introduction. Normally, you would address me with greater respect, but I shall overlook it." Michael smiles. "Would you like to learn more?" 

"How about, like…" Ryan wiggles his eyebrows. "Teach me how to curse."

Michael looks affronted, but Ryan can see the amusement in his eyes. "Well…you must not tell anyone." Ryan nods, grinning. Michael's smile spreads over his face, and his voice drops to a whisper. "Let us see…to tell someone to, how you say…fuck off, you would say this." Michael giggles. "Daknyth stuget."

"Daknyth stuget." Ryan repeats. Michael laughs, one hand covering his mouth. 

"To say, er….shut? Shat?"

"Shit."

"To speak the equivalent of that, you would say dieshta. Very loud, and with conviction. To curse in my language, you must be quite enraged in order for the curse to be said correctly." Michael tells Ryan, whispering like it's a big secret. Ryan grins. 

"Dieshta! I'm stuck with this mermaid and I don't know what to do." 

Michael laughs, and the sound of it sets off some alarm in Ryan's chest, and it starts to heat up again, and that reminds Ryan of the night before. The sight of Michael just sitting on the counter, right in front of him, so close that Ryan could reach out and pull him in and do what he wants to do, doesn't help anything.

Michael teaches him a few more dirty words and Ryan somehow makes it through, learning how to damn someone to their grave, to insult their family, and a whole lot of others Ryan would love to try out on the Mullins triplets at school. 

But suddenly, in the middle of "your mother is a whore," Devon bursts into the house, panting and looking like he's just seen a ghost. "Ryan! Ryan!"

Ryan turns around, frowning. "What's up, Dev?"

Then he notices Devon's muddied hands and scraped knees, and the leaves in his hair. Devon's big blue eyes stare up at him, watery and red. "I lost Brandon."

 

 

 

"I swear I last saw him around…here…" Devon says as they round the corner of the path leading through the swamp right near the beach. Ryan squints through the trees, looking for any movement that could be generated from a missing four-year-old. 

"Okay." Devon looks back at him, clearly about to cry. Ryan steps forward and grabs his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Don't worry, Dev. We're gonna find him. It's not your fault."

Devon nods, and Ryan goes back to searching, occasionally straying from the path. Michael walks ahead of him with Devon, calling Brandon's name and making as much of a racket as they can. 

What really worries Ryan isn't the fact that Brandon's missing, because he's been "lost" for a few hours before, then showed up at the house just in time for dinner, but the fact that it's starting to get darker. Nasty things emerge in the Florida swamps at night, and Ryan would rather not have his little brother wandering around with only firecrackers, Cheetos, and forty-five pounds of body for protection. 

"Ryan, this way!" Devon says, but when Ryan looks up, he sees that the winding path is about to hit the dead end.

"You sure, Dev?" He asks, and Ryan's deaf if Devon's voice doesn't sound…happy.

"Of course!"

Michael drops back to walk next to him. "Ryan, do you think you will be able to find him?" He asks, and Michael actually looks worried, too. 

"Don't worry, he's done this before. I think we'll be fine." Ryan says, but he's not feeling what he's saying. "Besides, last time, he- "

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RY-BEAR!"

Ryan's head snaps up at the same time Michael's does, and his eyes widen. Devon and Brandon are standing at the clearing of the dead end, grinning widely and giggling.

"Buh?" Ryan says, and Brandon laughs, beckoning Ryan forward with his head.

"We made you presents!" Devon announces, grinning down at Brandon, and that's when it all sinks in.

Ryan completely forgot that today was his birthday. It just slipped his mind, somehow, and even though his mother says that as you age, you forget trivial matters such as that, he still can't wrap his head around it. Maybe it was everything that happened ever since Michael arrived into their life, maybe it's something else, but it's completely unexpected. 

"W-wow." Ryan says weakly, walking toward Brandon and dropping to his knees. He gives him a quick pat-down, noticing that Brandon's hands are behind his back. "I'm happy and all, but next time, maybe don't, like, give me a heart attack."

Brandon giggles. "Guess what they are."

Ryan smiles. "I have no idea." He looks back at Michael, whose eyes are wide. "Michael, do you know?"

"I really don't."

Ryan turns back to Brandon and eyes him, wiggling his eyebrows in the way that always makes Brandon laugh. "Alright. Spill it."

Brandon bites his lip, glancing over at Devon, then he grins and whips his hands out from behind his back as they say at the same time, "Mudpies!"

Ryan stares at the cakes of dirt in Brandon's hands, stacked up in a giant tower. There's a moment of silence, and Brandon's face wavers. 

Then he laughs and hugs Brandon, leaning over and pulling Devon in. "I love them."

Brandon makes a happy noise and squeezes Ryan as tight as he can, which just about pops his ribs out. Devon clears his throat, trying to make his voice deep again, and he leans back. "And we also have something else." 

Ryan raises his eyebrows. "Really? Can I see?"

Devon grins and hands him a big box with a piece of paper on top of it. Ryan knows what it is before he turns it over, because every year for his birthday since his brothers were born, they've drawn him a picture of something big that happened in that year. Last time, it was Ryan holding the football state championship trophy, and the year before that, it was him standing in front of his car, holding a set of keys up. In both, Ryan resembled a potato with wings, but he doesn't mind. It melts his heart every time.

Ryan takes the paper and turns it over, and he looks at it for a really long time before he can say anything. 

"Wow."

In the drawing, he's standing in his bathroom next to the tub, and in the tub is Michael, in his mermaid form. His tail is the only thing with color, its deep blue that Brandon and Devon somehow managed to capture the opalescence of, and it makes a strong contrast with the black and white. It must be the first night Ryan brought Michael back to their house, which suddenly seems like so long ago. 

"Guys, this is really good." Ryan says, embarrassed to hear his voice crack. "Here, can Michael see?"

"Sure." Brandon says, smiling.

Ryan looks back and Michael kneels next to him, studying the picture. After a while, his gaze travels up to Ryan's brothers. "You…drew this?"

Brandon's grin widens. "Yup."

Michael smiles up at him, then at Devon. "Well, you truly are a Pikachu, then."

Brandon makes a happy noise and hugs Michael around his neck, then Devon moves over and hugs onto Michael's back, and Ryan's left holding the picture, unable to really move. Michael looks up at him and smiles, and the pounding in Ryan's chest is about to kill him, so he just breathes in and out and wraps his arms around all of them, and they stay there for a long time.

"Michael, I don't want you to go home." Brandon says into Michael's shoulder, and Michael laughs, but it's sad. Just the words makes the throbbing in Ryan's heart turn unbearable.

"I know, Brandon. I do not want to leave you, either. But I must."

"No, you don't have to!" Devon says. "Why? You can just stay with us, and then…then…"

Michael lowers his head, bringing himself closer to Ryan. Ryan holds his breath. "Well. Devon, you love your family, do you not?"

Devon nods, rubbing at his eyes.

"I love my family, but I have not seen them in a very long time. I miss them very much, and I need to return to them. I hope you understand." Michael looks over his shoulder at Devon. "But I will miss you all very much, too. More than even my own family, perhaps."

"Really?"

Michael smiles. "Yes. You have given me a home when I needed it most, even if I did not come here by choice. And you kept me here even when I was rude, and horrible, and complained. You have been so kind, and I will never forget that." His eyes flash up at Ryan for a second, then he looks away. Ryan lets his own close and just tries to focus on getting air into his lungs.

He's thought about Michael leaving, more so in the past few days, but he feels like nothing can ever prepare him for when the time comes. It scares him, and it excites him, but when he thinks of it, the dull thudding of his heart turns cold and unwelcome. 

Ryan wonders what he would have done if he and Michael hadn't met that day. If Michael _hadn't_ been able to hear his soul under the ocean, if he hadn't come up to the boat, if he hadn't touched his cheek and sprung Ryan back to consciousness. He wonders if their paths were meant to cross, if their lives were bound to intertwine like this, and then split apart as quickly as they'd united.

Ryan sighs and feels like he's going to cry as he looks up and sees Michael there, kneeling quietly and just holding them, and he wonders if he was meant to fall in love with Michael as much as he has, only to have him torn away as soon as he realized it. 

 

 

 

At some point, Ryan doesn't remember when, they all get up and take the walk down the beach back to the house. Michael picks up a giant conch shell on the way and finds another one for Brandon, and Brandon pretends to talk to him through it.

Ryan watches them and catches himself smiling, and he realizes that he could go on like this for the rest of his life. And he just might, if he was given the chance. 

They get into the house and have a late dinner of ice cream and fish sticks, which Michael downs with great gusto. Brandon and Devon start yawning and Ryan brings them upstairs and tucks Brandon in. Devon insists that he's a man now and doesn't need to be tucked in, but Ryan does it anyway, tackling him into the blankets and folding them over him. 

"Alright. Thanks for today, Dev." Ryan says, smiling as Devon messes up the sheets and tucks himself in. Devon looks up at him with this expression that says he knows everything.

"Ry. I know you- " Devon starts, but Ryan interrupts him.

"I know, lil' bro. I know." Ryan says, turning out the light. "But it hurts, and if I do anything, it's gonna hurt more, okay?"

Devon frowns in the darkness. "You should just do it. Just go for it."

Ryan laughs, mussing up his bangs. "You're too young to be worrying about stuff like this. Now, go to sleep."

Ryan stretches as he walks back to his room, yawning and trying to ignore the nervous ache of his heart. He sees Michael sitting cross-legged on his bed as usual, facing the window. Ryan clears his throat and Michael turns his head, smiling when he sees him.

Ryan goes and sits next to him, looking out at the night framed by their window. The palm trees on the beach are just dark shapes swaying in the slight breeze, the lights from the boardwalk stars that are too close to the ground, and the ocean a black velvet blanket. 

"You did not tell me that it was your birthday, Ryan." Michael says quietly, eyes reflecting the lights outside.

"I guess…guess I just forgot." Ryan laughs to himself. "I mean, my- "

"Ryan, look at me." Michael says suddenly, and Ryan is stunned into obedience. He turns and sees Michael studying him, like his eyes are reaching into Ryan's own and finding something. 

"I want you to trust me." 

Ryan nods, heart starting to pound for some reason. "Okay."

Michael seems to hesitate for half a second, then he leans in and presses their lips together.

Ryan feels like simultaneously screaming and crying and laughing and kissing Michael back, but he can only do one thing at a time.

So he chooses the last one.

Ryan lets his eyes slide closed and he lets his hand travel to rest on top of Michael's leg. Michael makes a soft sound and links his arms around Ryan's neck, and Ryan slides his hand up to Michael's hip. He slips his tongue against Michael's lip and Michael opens his mouth, moving closer. His mouth is sweet and addictive, and he makes a soft sound, kissing Ryan harder. 

Ryan shifts until he's far back enough and he pulls Michael forward and into his lap, heart pounding. Michael's legs straddle him and he leans forward, biting at Ryan's lips. Ryan coasts his hands up and down Michael's sides, just feeling the shape of him, and it feels perfect, like he was born to be in Ryan's arms. 

Michael keeps kissing him as one hand travels up to tangle in Ryan's hair, and that's when Ryan pulls away, resting his forehead on Michael's and breathing hard. 

"Oh my god." He breathes, and Michael makes a soft noise, hand grasping Ryan's hair like he needs something to hold onto. Ryan tightens his arm around Michael's waist and pulls him closer, letting his forehead drop in the crook of Michael's neck. His other hand somehow travels up and latches onto Michael's, and he rests his palm on Michael's chest, feeling the fast, steady beat of his heart. 

"Yes." Michael whispers, eyelashes fluttering against Ryan's cheekbone. Ryan just breathes and tries not to feel too much, but he wants to feel everything at the same time. 

Ryan doesn't even know what he's supposed to do next, he doesn't even know what he's doing at the moment, but he lies back and Michael goes with him, resting his head on Ryan's chest. Ryan wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him in, then just starts kissing him again. Michael makes a surprised noise, but doesn't move away. 

"Sorry, I just…" Ryan trails off at the look in Michael's eyes. 

Michael smiles up at him, and in that moment, Ryan swears that Michael is what love looks like, and even though he'll be gone sooner than he can realize it, he will always be what love looks like to Ryan.

But he doesn't say it. Later, in the middle of the night, he'll wonder why.

"I know." Michael says simply, then he lets his head drop back down on Ryan's chest. 

Michael sighs, breathing evening out, and Ryan knows he's asleep. 

"Goodnight, Michael." He whispers in the dark. 

 

 

The next day, Ryan wakes up and Michael's gone.

He rolls out of bed, the previous night all flooding back to him at once, and he has to sit back down. There's the outline of Michael's body in the sheets and imprinted onto the mattress, and if Ryan closes his eyes, he can see them lying there. 

He traipses down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the smell of toasting bread meets his nose. He takes a deep breath and looks in. Michael sits at the kitchen island with Brandon and Devon, and Brandon looks teary. Devon just looks angry and sad. 

Ryan already knows what it is, and he doesn't want to go into the kitchen, doesn't want to face it all. But he doesn't have a choice. 

"Ryan." Michael says, looking up at him when he walks in. He cuts straight to the point. "It is today."

Ryan nods, making sure that his face is blank, despite the knife that has just been driven through his chest. "Okay."

 

 

 

Ryan somehow gets through the day, making minimal contact with Michael, running errands he probably doesn't need to just to get out of the house, and lifeguarding for hours on the beach, even though there's only two old people there. He calls his mom, who's been gone on yet another of her many business trips (which pick up during the school year and never really slow down.) When he gets home at eight, Michael's made six more pizzas at Devon and Brandon's bidding. 

After he's plowed through half a slice and felt like he was going to throw up, Ryan calls Kyle from his bathroom. He explains what they're going to have to do, and surprisingly, Kyle doesn't question it, just agrees. 

Ryan's sure that Kyle can tell, because they've never been apart for more than a month in their entire lives and Kyle knows him like the back of his hand. But Kyle doesn't bring it up, and Ryan would rather not say anything if he doesn't have to. They end up going off-topic and talk for hours, which is really nice, in its own way. Ever since Michael happened, he and Kyle haven't been able to just chill out together, and he misses it. 

As he hangs up, the door to his room clicks open and Michael walks in. The breath stutters out of Ryan and he glances over at Michael, then at his feet, then toward the window.

"Ryan, I…" Michael starts, and at the look on Ryan's face, he sighs and walks forward. "I…"

"It's fine. You have to get home." Ryan says, still not looking up. 

"No, I- " Michael tries again, but then he makes an odd sound and Ryan glances back over his shoulder, then his eyes widen.

Michael has dropped to the ground, like his knees have just given out under him. Ryan bolts up and is at his side, moving faster than he thought he could. "Shit."

"Ryan, I cannot feel my legs." Michael murmurs, and Ryan looks hurriedly to the clock in his room. It reads 11:15, later than he thought.

"Is it time?" 

"Yes."

 

 

 

"Devon, get my phone." Ryan barks as he rushes down the stairs, carrying Michael with him. Devon finds his cell in the kitchen and hands it to him, and Ryan doesn't have time to question why he's awake. 

Ryan hastily dials Kyle's number with one hand, pressing it to his ear. Kyle picks up on the third ring, says, "I'm coming," then hangs up. Ryan thanks god that they're friends. "Okay, Michael, we're going, just hold on." Michael nods silently, and Ryan thinks he's probably trying to conserve his energy, so he doesn't talk anymore. 

When they get outside, there's a slight breeze and the water is a little rough. Ryan's gaze travels up and he sees the full moon, just like Michael said. No sign of a dog the size of a sixteen-wheeler, though. Ryan sets Michael down on the shore and takes off his hoodie, throwing it over Michael's shoulders. "Just wait for Kyle to get here." As if on cue, Kyle's voice calls from down the beach, and Ryan looks up to see him jogging down the shore, just a black blob in the night's darkness. The only lights are from Ryan's house and the moon, the boardwalk shut down. 

"Okay." Kyle pants, and Michael stares at him. Kyle grimaces. "Don't worry, dude, I'm not gonna let you get killed. Where do you need to go?"

Michael surveys the beach, squinting. "Those rocks."

Ryan follows his gaze to a long string of boulders jutting out from the far end of the beach, making a kind of pier. "You sure?"

Michael nods. The motion looks like it exhausts him. "Yes. It is the closest way." 

Ryan reaches down and picks him up, and Kyle makes a move like he wants to help, but Michael kind of just shrinks back into him. It fills Ryan with a weird protectiveness and he smirks, sticking his tongue out at Kyle. Kyle raises an eyebrow, looking like he's about to crack up as he follows them to the pier. 

"Stay close." Michael tells Kyle as Ryan steps carefully out onto the first boulder, wobbling a little. Michael's hand curls onto his shoulder. 

"I'm not going to drop you." Ryan says, grinning, but he has to force it. The breeze is a little too cold to be normal now, and the moon is no longer a comforting source of light, more like a creepy kind of eye. 

Michael doesn't answer, and when Ryan looks down, his finger is pressed to his lips. "She is here." Michael whispers, and Ryan curses under his breath, motioning for Kyle to come up next to him. 

"Cover him." Ryan mutters, and Kyle nods, zipping up Ryan's hoodie and pulling the hood over Michael's face as far as he can. They move so that they're kind of sandwiching Michael between them, so Ryan has a view over Kyle's shoulder. "So this is that thing you were- " Kyle starts, and Ryan nods, shushing him. 

A ripple about twenty feet into the water at the edge of the pier catches his eye, and this time, Ryan definitely sees it, a scaly back rolling above the surface and a sudden musty smell. Michael makes a small, frightened noise, and Ryan presses closer, pulling the hood further down. "Fuck." Kyle mutters under his breath. 

They stand in silence until Ryan feels his arms starting to give out, but he knows that if he makes the slightest movement, they're probably all going to die a painful death. 

Michael chances turning his head to look over Kyle's shoulder, and he lets out a breath. "We are safe."

The air whooshes out of Ryan's lungs. Kyle moves backward, looking a little shaken. "So, I'm going to go now, if that's okay." Ryan looks down at Michael, who nods, hand still curled onto his shoulder. "It's fine. Thanks, Kyle."

"Thank you." Michael murmurs, and Kyle grins, gaze flickering up to Ryan. Ryan holds it, and he knows what Kyle's thinking. About the two of them.

"No problem." Kyle says, already making his way back down the pier. "And, hey, Michael, I'm sorry about all of this. You being captured and stuff."

Michael turns his head and studies Kyle for a while before he says, "No, I would not say it is a bad thing, now."

That confirms what Kyle was thinking, and he smirks up at Ryan. "Well, I'll leave you two alone, then. And Ryan can get emotional, so just ignore him."

"Hey, wait a min- " Ryan hisses, but Michael just laughs weakly, and the sound of it returns Ryan's attention to the task at hand. "Whatever. Thanks again, dude."

"That's completely false." Ryan tells Michael as they arrive at the very edge of the pier, as far out into the ocean as they can go. Michael smiles up at him, face glowing just by the light of the stars and moon above them, and Ryan's heart starts up its pounding again.

He kneels on the edge of the last rock, propping Michael up next to him with the feeling like he's suffocating. 

This is really happening, his brain says numbly. 

Tomorrow, you're going to wake up, and he'll be gone.

Ryan lets out a heavy sigh that he hopes will lessen the suffocating, but it doesn't. He slips his hoodie off of Michael's shoulders and Michael pulls the shirt over his head. Ryan turns away as Michael takes off Ryan's old sweatpants and boxers. 

Michael motions for him to turn back around, and Ryan just avoids looking where he shouldn't look as Michael places his hands on his shoulders. He lowers himself gradually into the water, breathing hard, until he's up to his waist and using Ryan as a support. 

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then." Ryan manages to get out, embarrassed to hear his voice rattle. His heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest.

Michael just looks at him for the longest time, then a smile spreads over his face and he squeezes Ryan's shoulders. "You remember what I told you, about studying hard. And take care of your brothers."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Of course, princess."

Michael laughs softly. "Well…" He looks into Ryan's eyes, and something in his face makes Ryan want to just pull him out of the water and never let him go. "Goodbye, Ryan."

"Bye, Michael." Ryan murmurs, not even caring about how hard his heart is beating now. "I'll, uh…I guess I won't see you around. But, well…" He blinks hard, blushing at how awkward and stupid this is. "Yeah. Bye, Michael."

Michael just smiles at him, and Ryan looks away for a moment, trying to conceal the stupid goddamn fucking tear starting to pool in his eye.

When he looks back, Michael is gone.

"Shit." Ryan mutters, wiping at his face. 

He stares up at the night sky, and he feels like laughing, because everything he didn't want to say, he did, and everything he did want to say, he didn't. His head is spinning, and his heart has probably just stopped beating altogether, he just hasn't noticed yet. Another damn tear falls down his face and Ryan makes a small sound, letting his gaze travel down again until he's just staring at the last place he'll probably ever see Michael in his entire life.

Then, he sees something heading toward the surface of the water, and before he know it Michael shoots up and presses their lips together, one hand gently pressed against his cheek.

Ryan is so emotionally burnt out already that he can't do anything, just lets himself feel Michael's wet fingers stroke through his hair as they kiss, and wishes that he could freeze time and keep them like that forever.

Michael's mouth leaves his and he leans forward, lips pressing to Ryan's cheek.

"I love you, Ryan." He whispers against Ryan's skin.

The words shatter over Ryan's heart and finally stop the pounding, finally let him go, and Ryan can't think words, just thinks what he feels, and somehow gets it out. 

"I love you, too." He says, eyes still closed.

When he opens them, Michael's hands slide down his chest as he closes his eyes, and then he sinks underwater, still looking up at Ryan, and there's a blinding flash of light that makes Ryan squeeze his eyes shut again, and Michael is truly gone, the darkness closing back over him. 

 

 

 

_One month later_

 

"Devon, just pass the maple syrup." Ryan says, karate-chopping at Devon's hand to make him let go of it. "If you wanna go surfing today, you're gonna have to be, like, super-nice. I'm talking foot massages here."

Devon groans and pokes angrily at his pancake with his fork. "Why can't we just _go_?"

"Because." Ryan grins, picking up Brandon and his mother's finished plates and taking them to the sink. "Your birthday isn't for another…" He checks his clock. "Hour. And I have to get all our stuff together."

Devon just grumbles under his breath and reaches over to steal the strawberry Brandon's juggling. "Gimme that."

Ryan heads upstairs and gets his swim trunks on, yawning and cracking his back, and he's just pulling his board out of his closet when he sees the shoebox at the bottom, the one Brandon and Devon gave him for his birthday. The one he still hasn't opened, and was planning never to, because he can just tell that it reeks of Michael and all he wants to do is move on. 

It's That Box.

Ryan sighs. And he was just starting to recover. 

_Well, I'm going to have to see sometime,_ He thinks gloomily to himself, picking it up and sitting on his bed with it in his lap. 

Ryan takes a deep breath, then pulls off the lid. 

He immediately recognizes what's inside, and it just makes him want to go chase after who they belong to. All of Michael's blue, reflective scales clink at the bottom, and mixed in with them is the shell and pearl that Jim used to capture Michael that first night. Ryan smiles as he picks up a scale, feeling the weight of it in his palms. But what he doesn't recognize are the photos stuffed in a corner.

He slips one out and realizes that it's the one he took of Michael and Brandon on the swing set. Michael looks so incredibly _real_ in the photograph, like he's right in front of Ryan like he used to be, and Ryan can just reach through the paper and touch him. 

Ryan puts it back as something closes on his throat, then turns to the others. He frowns, because the only one he took was of Michael and Brandon. 

It occurs to Ryan that sometime, behind his back, his brothers figured out how to work the camera, because the rest of the photos are all at strange angles of he and Michael, usually from the back or framed like someone was crouched hiding behind a corner as they took it. Ryan flips through them, and they're blurry and overexposed, but the memories they bring back are burned into Ryan's eyes, and are never going to leave him. There are some of Michael's pizzas, some taken from the backseat of the car, one of him and Michael sitting on his bed that was clearly a stealth operation, and a lot of him and Michael just standing in the kitchen and talking. 

The thing is, with every single one of them, Michael is looking straight at the lens, with that small smile on his face that makes him look like he knows everything. Which he probably did.

Ryan doesn't even notice that Devon's come in until he sits down next to him, looking over his shoulder at the photos. Devon has the tact not to say anything right away, and they sit in silence for a while.

"You miss him, too?" Devon says finally, and it's not really a question. 

"Yeah." Is all Ryan can get out. "But, y'know, Dev…we just have to move on, okay?"

Life would have to go on, and Ryan had let it run its course for a month.

But if he just had the chance to go back to Michael and let life leave him behind, or keep on with life as it is, he knows what he would choose. 

"I know." Devon mutters, then he stands, hands on his hips. "I'm gonna go get into my bro flow outfit." He informs Ryan, grinning, and Ryan bursts out laughing, standing and mimicking his pose.

"Okay, buddy. Let's get out there."

 

 

 

"Great! Now, push up!" Ryan calls. Devon's face is determined as he swings his legs up until he's standing, wobbling as the force of the wave behind him pushes, and he yells in triumph, throwing up his arms.

"Hell yeah, Ry! Look at me now!"

"Wait! NO! DON'T- " Ryan yells, but it's too late, because the sudden motion throws Devon off balance and he tumbles down, the wave curling over him. "Idiot." Ryan says under his breath, paddling closer, but the wave seems determined to keep him away. "Dev? You okay?"

Devon surfaces after a couple seconds, gasping and spluttering, and he pops up onto his board. Literally. It's like one second he's treading water, and the next, he's up on the surfboard. Almost like something pushed him up onto it.

Ryan narrows his eyes, motioning for Devon to come toward him. But nothing looks sketchy, as far as Ryan can tell. Maybe his eyes are going.

"You suck." He informs Devon, who splashes his face in retaliation, but he's grinning. "Lemme show you."

Ryan paddles up when he sees the start of a breaker, and he pushes up easily, getting on his feet. Devon boos from near the rocks, and Ryan gives him the finger, grinning smugly as he glides into the wave's tunnel. 

But he frowns as he feels some weird pressure coming from the inner wave, and then something wraps around his ankle, and before he knows it, he's tumbling off his board and into the water. The thing pulls him further down, like it's bent on drowning him or something, and Ryan struggles underwater until he's turned around. 

Then he opens his eyes, and he sees Michael, laughing and making air bubbles as they float slowly upright, and Ryan can't even believe his eyes, can't believe the fact that he's here with Michael now, that they're both here. Together.

So he just surges forward and kisses Michael, and it's everything Ryan's ever wanted in his entire life, so he lets himself let go and sink into the reality that he is in love. 

Michael's tail beats against his legs and his arms link around Ryan's neck, and Ryan just kisses him harder, head spinning from something that doesn't feel like lack of oxygen, something more pleasant, like being carried underwater by the currents and not even realizing it, but when you do realize it, you're too far in to go back. 

Leaning closer to his ear, Michael says something in his own language, and Ryan is pretty sure that anyone could figure out what it means, even if they don't believe in mermaids. 

Michael kisses his forehead and Ryan feels himself float up, a smile spreading over his face when he looks down and sees Michael blowing a kiss, getting smaller and smaller as Ryan nears the surface.

Ryan mimes catching it, air bubbles of laughter coming out of his mouth. 

He gasps in lungfuls of air when he surfaces, laughing for real above water. Devon screams and paddles hurriedly over to him. "RYAN!"

"Hey." Ryan says, grinning lazily, and Devon looks at him with suspicion. "How's it goin'?"

"You were down there for almost five minutes." Devon's eyes narrow. "What happened, huh?"

Ryan shrugs, tapping his pointer finger against his chin. "Gee, guess I must've just lost track of time." He swims over to his board, Devon following him. "Doing _what_?"

Ryan reaches over and ruffles Devon's hair as he climbs back on, chuckling to himself. "Eh, I don't know. We'll see later. Now. Maybe."

"That's not an answer." Devon tells him, but Ryan just laughs and tips back over into the water, not really able to control his muscles at the moment. 

"Ahh. C'mon, I think that's enough surfing for one day."

 

 

 

That night, after he's eaten dinner in a happy daze, Ryan realizes that he was so idiotically blissed-out at the beach that he forgot his board on the shore. "Shoot." He says, but it's far too cheerful for anyone else to see it as an actual problem. "Guess I'd better go get it, huh?"

His mom and his brothers all look at each other like he's gone slightly insane. "Sure, hon." His mom says, looking him up and down. She smiles as he floats out of the kitchen, bumping into the wall on the way out. 

Ryan makes his way down the dark beach, sighing contentedly and closing his eyes as the sea breeze washes over his skin. But when he gets to the spot where he left his board, it's not there anymore.

"Huh?" He mutters, straining his eyes in the dark, all the shops in the boardwalk having shut down. But his board is nowhere to be seen.

Then, there's a soft giggle from behind him, and when Ryan turns around, smiling because he knows that voice, his board is lying five feet away, thrown onto the sand. It's dripping wet and covered in shells, attached by seaweed tied on in various places. 

Ryan smiles, bends and tucks it under his arm, then faces the ocean, raising an eyebrow. 

"I know you're there."

And it might just be his eyes playing tricks on him, but Ryan sees the flip of a fin above the water, hears a laugh carried on the breeze, and when he closes his eyes briefly, he can feel Michael's lips pressed gently against his. 

He cracks one eye open and watches the fin sink under the waves. A couple seconds pass, and Ryan thinks he's gone.

But a long arm extends above the water and waves at him, closer to shore this time. Then it disappears as quickly as it surfaced.

Ryan laughs, starting to turn away, but not without waving back first.

"Goodnight, Michael." He calls, grinning to himself as he makes his way back down the beach, to his home.

He falls down on his bed, still unable to keep the smile off his face, and opens the window to let the breeze in. And before he knows it, Ryan's lulled asleep by the sound of the waves against the shore, steady as his heartbeat.


End file.
